


We Call Everything on the Ice Love: A Klance Fanfic

by thedemigodrunner



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coach - Freeform, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Ice Skating, Ice Skating AU, Insecurity, Inspired by Yuri!!! on Ice, Korean Keith (Voltron), Low Key Depression, M/M, Multi, Rivals, Slow Burn, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemigodrunner/pseuds/thedemigodrunner
Summary: The skater begins with slow, graceful movements, reminiscent of ballet. Each pose and swing of his arms or legs reflects the cool beat of the music, as if the skater himself had supernatural control over the ice - an ice prince. Keith watches, entranced.Keith and Lance are figure skaters. Rivalry, coaching, persevering, and love happens.





	1. The start

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so this is my first serious fanfic and I hope you all like it! I am open to suggestions so please submit them if you have them! [My Tumblr](https://thedemigodrunner.tumblr.com/)

Lance has always loved the ice. During the winter, it was the closest he could get to the water, and how cool was it to be able to glide on top on it? To feel like you’re flying? It was euphoric to Lance.

His parents had introduced him to ice skating when he was five, and he had fallen in love instantly. Though he stumbled, and occasionally crashed, the feeling of getting the strokes and his balance just right to smoothly glide across the frozen surface was worth it. It was worth falling down for the few seconds after a confident and perfect moment.

It helped that he was decent at it for his age. After spending hours in the not so local rink, Lance told his parents that he really wanted to come back, that he really wanted to get good at this. Lance had watched how they had smiled at him as he got the hang of things, and they had watched how doing it brought their son so much joy.

They signed him up for skating lessons within the week.

-

It is his first skating competition, and Lance absorbs himself with a loose thread from his costume. He is psyched to get out there on the ice, show off his stuff, and have fun, but most of his family is here and he wants to impress them. They have sacrificed time and money for him to be there, and he really wants to show them what he's learned.

The emcee announces his turn, startling Lance from his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Lance remembers what his parents had said to him right before warm-ups ended.

“Do your best, and have fun out there! Enjoy it!”

With that in mind, Lance steps onto the ice smiling and has the time of his life.

 

-

Now this competition is an important one. Lance has won all of the local and regional competitions, going farther than he or his family had pictured, but is he at the national level? Lance knows he's good, but is he good enough to keep pursuing his passion for skating? Can he make a career out of this? The prize money from winning metals is nice, but is it enough to make ends meet? His parents aren't telling him anything, but he knows that his skating had been a large investment.

Lance shakes his head. He needs to trust them, and they would not want him worrying about it. He has more concerning issues to focus on. He swirls lazily across the ice as warm ups progress, trying to get his thoughts back together.

“ _I’ll pay them back with these wins_ ,” he thinks.

Lance wants to continue skating, and if there is anything to guarantee a few more years on the ice, winning this competition is it.

In and out.

In and out.

He can do this. He loves skating. He has worked super hard. Lance is going to put his heart out on the ice. He will show his family his gratitude, and show everyone his love for skating. Lance relaxes as he starts to rehearse his program for the billionth time. All that he had been feeling that week will be translated into his movements, and it will be his best.

It is.

-

Lance hadn’t won nationals that day, but it was the competition that had set him on the path to professional figure skating.

Stepping off the ice, Lance knows that he really had done his best. For the moment. He still is not satisfied, knowing that he could do better. The knowledge doesn’t take away his grin though.

His coach and family are there with him as the results come in, and as he cries as all his emotions flood him, they are adamant about him continuing to figure skate. He surprised them all, moved them all, and as Lance makes his way towards the stands to watch the other skaters, spectators tell him the same as well. Lance had put that emotion into their hearts. It is all because they had seen _him_.

“Ice skating is about making something beautiful, and you fulfilled that today.”

The words of his coach will ring in his ear for years.

-

The cold air envelops Lance like a deceptive blanket. Physically, it will freeze you, but the feel of it became like home to Lance. Training in Detroit had been one of the best experiences of his life, and he is all the happier and better skater for it. He misses his family dearly, but thankfully they are able to come to some of his competitions. When he is feeling especially lonely though, he remembers how he is skating for them too. Lance wants to give them something beautiful, and whenever he needs to express something, the ice allows him to do that.

Carefully sipping his expertly sugared coffee drink, Lance quickly traverses through the subway station, knowing that he is about to be late, and not for the first time.

“ _Oh well_ ,” he sighs. Lance loves his sleep and his skin, so time spent on them are not going to be curtailed.

Racing out of the station and up the stairs to the rink, Lance barely arrives on time. He bursts through the front doors, the warmth and familiar smell of leather and sweat greeting him kindly. He spots Hunk already on the ice, practicing pair skating moves. Lance had met Hunk a year earlier at their first Junior Grand Prix and they had immediately hit it off.

“Yo, Hunk!”

Hunk looks up from the warm up he had been doing and glides over to Lance, who begins to put on his skates.

“Hey dude,” Hunk greets. “Almost late again? And your cheat day a day early?”

Lance shrugs. “I drink what I want.”

“You know coach will start getting onto you for that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Lance waves off, smirking. “It’ll be fine. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

Hunk levels him a skeptical look, but his mouth curves fondly. “Whatever you say.”

“Boys!” Allura shouts from across the rink. “You’re supposed to be warming up! Let’s go!”

Lance groans dramatically. “I’m going, I’m going!”

“Go faster!” Allura claps her hands, not giving in to Lance’s dawdling. “We only have six weeks until the first Junior Grand Prix competition and all your programs need work!”

Lance makes a face when he is sure Allura isn’t looking, which produces a laugh from Hunk. His face falls serious after a moment.

“You really want to win this year though, right?”

“More than anything,” Lance replies as he finishes knotting his laces and takes to the ice.

-

The Junior Grand Prix Final is finally here. Lance is ready. He has made it this far. He has survived Allura’s intense training, which is a feat itself. He has been here before last year. He could win this year.

Warm ups are going well, and Lance allows himself to check out the competition. There are a few familiar faces, but one new kid stands out in particular. His outfit is all black, and his frown seems so deep that it is probably seared into his face.

“ _He sure doesn’t look like he’s having fun_.” Lance thinks.

The seriousness of this kid throws him off a little. Lance is serious too, but he has to remind himself to enjoy the skating in order to cope with some of the pressure.

“ _It’s okay. You can do this. You can make something beautiful, that’s what you’re here for and people will see that_.”

“ _Show them_.” Lance finds the perfect groove and leaps to make a jump.

One

Two

Three

He spins in the air. So far so good. Now he just needs to keep his feet tight and-

“Shit,” Lance whispers. He over rotates and has to put a hand down on the ice.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.” Lance must say that too loud, because the frowning kid now stares at him.

“ _His hair is inky black too_ ,” Lance notes, before deciding to just stare back. The kid uncomfortably shifts, crossing his arms and looking away.

“ _You talking to me_?” He asks sharply.

Lance is a little taken aback, but coolly replies, “Nope, sorry” and skates off to finish his warm up. He can not let himself be distracted by that kid.

-

Lance waits in the locker room for his turn. He doesn’t want to see the other skaters before him if he skates against them. He just needs to focus on how he is going perform, just like Allura  had told him. Lance takes deep breaths and stretches, trying to quiet his mind.

“ _It’s just you and the ice_.”

“Lance McClain, you’re up,” the official announces into the room.

“Let’s go!” He cheers. Placing an easy smile on his face, he steps onto the ice.

-

The routine is going well. His jumps have little fault so far and the footwork is all there in front of him. He knows this routine like the scuffs on his white, well-loved ice skates, and all he has to do now is get a feel for the music.

The sea of people and pressure around the edges of his vision always threatens to drown him, but Lance lets the music and his heart guide him, and his easy smile from before becomes genuine.

He is flying, and there is no one who can take this joy from him.

-

That is, until that joy is replaced by something else. A fire settles deep in Lance’s bones. That Keith kid. Not only did he beat Lance at the Junior Grand Prix, but also Junior Worlds and it had been his first of each. His first! Where had he been before? But that is not what irks Lance the most. It is his attitude. Being aloof is fine, Lance can respect that, and understands that invading his personal space when he didn’t want it invaded would result in some sharp language, but aloofness and yelling and that infuriating little smirk he would get really sets Lance off. Lance tried to reach out to him, and to not make him uncomfortable, but obviously he did something wrong, or Keith is an ass since all Keith seems to do is ignore him or insult him in some way. It does not help that Lance insults him right back but he can't help it.

Who does this guy think he is?

Lance feels so embarrassed after Junior Worlds. He openly challenged Keith, saying that he would win, and all Keith did was glare back and then go off to win gold. Lance hasn’t seen Keith’s performance, but he's sure that he could be just as good.

Lance really wants to beat him, to wipe that smirk off his face with a gold medal. Keith will be going to the Grand Prix for his senior debut, while Lance is still stuck in the Juniors. He has to win the Junior Grand Prix and Junior Worlds this year.

Closing his eyes, Lance goes through his program again.


	2. Teenagers Scare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter but more coming soon! Hope you enjoy!

Keith stomps out of the locker room into the parking garage. His brain pounds furiously into his skull. He had to get away from all that noise, clear his head, and stop thinking.

_“Just breathe.”_

This is the farthest he had gone in his skating career and Keith is completely out of his element. The other skaters are just so talented. Why the hell did he look up some of their videos last night?

_“Oh right, because I couldn’t sleep. Idiot.”_

This isn’t even the Grand Prix Final. It is just the Cup of China and he has already placed second in the Rostelecom Cup. He can do this...right?

Keith groans and slams his hands against the wall, leaning on it will all his weight. He needs to calm down. He needs to stop thinking. 

What would his coach say? 

“Patience yields focus.” Shiro’s voice floats through Keith’s head. 

“ _Right. Patience yields focus. Breathe.”_  

Keith takes a few deep breaths, and the panic subsides within his chest to a dull tingle. He really wishes Shiro were here. He is the reason Keith had continued this far in figure skating anyway. His coach had apologized to him profusely about not being able to be present due to a sudden family crisis, and Keith hadn’t been mad at all, assuring Shiro that he would be okay, but now Keith knew that that had been a lie. 

“ _Why did I think that I would be okay?”_

 Keith watches as his breath turns into white vapor in the cold air, the action soothing. He needs to get himself together. He can not go down like this. 

After a while he realizes that it is probably time to go back in now. His turn is coming up. 

He pushes off the wall, and stretches a little more, before heading back into the noisy stadium. 

-

His program had gone horribly. Keith mentally facepalms every time he thinks about it. He had been so tense and he had not been in time with the music at all. Patience and focus had been thrown out the window as the music had started and the waves of panic had buzzed through him in full force as he had taken his starting position. After the first flubbed jump, it had taken all of Keith’s concentration to tamper down his emotions in order to not miserably fail the others.    

Shiro immediately calls him after, probably having seen it on live TV, but Keith really doesn’t want to talk. 

He could have done so much better. 

He is found crying in the bathroom stall after that. A stranger stops in front of the stall and asks if he’s okay. Torn between lying or letting the stranger pass, Keith just continues to silently sob, but obviously not quietly enough since the stranger doesn’t move. Keith sees under the door that whoever it is wears blue and grey high tops, and is thankful that he is just wearing his own red ones. Keith really hopes that they won’t recognize him. 

Luckily they don’t. 

“If you’re one of the skaters who performed today, just remember that no matter how badly you may have messed up, you’re still one of the greatest skaters in the world right now, and that all of you are beautiful on the ice.”

Keith’s eyes widen at that last bit. Even though the stranger doesn’t know who he is, how they had said it sounded genuine and personal. No one had ever said that about him before. 

Caught up in his shock, he mutters a late “thank you” before the stranger walks out the door. 

-

Bright and early the next day, Keith skates lazy circles across the rink. The stranger’s words had been stuck in his head all night as he tossed and turned. He had been called beautiful. No one besides Shiro offers feedback on his skating. Announcers and the media were always happy to, but Keith ignores them. He can’t care less. They did not truly know him, and “chatted” too much for his tastes anyway. 

The scrape of his blades on the ice place a soothing touch on his heart. The ice had been home for as long as Keith could remember. It is the one place that he always comes back to and can find in almost any city. It provides him solace and an outlet to express his emotions without words. Keith has always been good at doing things, but communicating, not so much. 

Keith can always process on the ice, and right now, it is telling him to keep skating, even though after that embarrassment of a senior debut he wants to give up, crawl in a hole and never leave. But Keith knows he is better than that, stronger than that, and that no matter how much he wants, no, the ground would not physically swallow him up when he wills it to. 

He will keep persevering. He will keep doing something that he loved, and maybe, he will let other people continue to see it. 

-

 With additional encouragement and support from Shiro, Keith decides to compete in the Four Continents, which leaves him a little less than two months to get his shit together in order to give a quality performance. 

“Your feet are drifting too far apart,” Shiro points out from the sidelines. 

Keith grunts in response and shifts his legs to move closer together. He needs to nail his footwork. If he fails his jumps then his presentation score is going to need to make up for it. 

Keith slowly becomes more comfortable with the movements, but he must be absolutely confident in them. He does not want his anxiety controlling him like it had last time. He can skate better than that. 

“That’s it!” Shiro’s voice breaks Keith’s train of thought, and he looks up to see his coach smiling proudly. 

Yeah, he smiles to himself, he can perform better.

-

“Just follow the music, Keith. You’re a great skater and you can do this.” Shiro places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, grounding him amidst all the distractions. The din of the fans’ cheering had never affected Keith until now. He doesn’t like it. Keith nods, trying to let the words touch his heart. He can do this. 

The warm up goes well, but fear still lingers in Keith’s gut. It is nothing new, but it feels different in the wake of what happened at the Grand Prix just weeks ago. He has already messed up and now more people are watching him to see what he does next. Keith knows that not a lot could be worse than what happened last time, but he doesn’t want to push it. He probably hasn’t reached the bottom.

 _“I can persevere._ ” 

As he leaves the ice for the first skater, Keith puts in his headphones and blasts his hype playlist. Now is the time to push through and lay it all out on the ice—the one place where he can be completely honest, the place that has always accepted him, his home.

 


	3. When You See My Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I had to post this next chapter because AHHH SEASON 5!!!!! I'm really happy that our fandom was right about a lot stuff and the things that I had called and had planned for this fic with some characters :) hehe

Lance can barely contain the excitement thundering through his veins. He has finally won the Junior Grand Prix Final! The satisfying gold medal hangs around his neck, and a megawatt smile rests on his face. Lance has done it. Not only has he accomplished his goal, but he also qualifies for the Grand Prix, and is back to skating on the same ice as his peers. No matter how much it will take, Lance will rise up the podium.

 

His parents wrap him in a bone shattering hug the moment they see him. Lance glows under the love and praise, happy that he had made his parents so proud. His siblings follow and also hug and congratulate him. The youngest stare at him in wonder a little bit, which Lance finds incredibly endearing.

 

Lance’s heart is full, and he can’t wait till next season. He can’t wait for more.

 

Later that night, Lance skypes with Hunk, still buzzing from what happened.

 

“Dude you were amazing!” Hunk yells immediately when the connection comes through. Lance flushes a little under the praise and grins.

 

“Thanks man, I’m really happy.”

 

“Yeah, I bet you are! You deserve it! I’m saving this video forever.”

 

“Aw c’mon now, you’re making me blush!”

 

“Well, it was good!” Hunk’s face turns more serious. “It was really good Lance.”

 

“Yeah well, we will see how it compares—”

 

“Now, now,” Hunk intervenes. “What do we say about comparison?”

 

Lance sighs, throwing his hands up, “It’s the thief of all joy, and I know, but I really want to win the next one!”

 

“And you can, without comparing and denigrating yourself.”

 

Lance huffs and is silent for a while, deep in thought. It’s true that he should follow what Hunk said, but it is really difficult to remember how to accurately judge himself. “They are better than me,” he shrugs.

 

“Who?” Hunk inquires.

 

“Well, all of the people currently in the Grand Prix for starters,” Lance scoffs.

 

“Well yeah, but they were where you are at some point. You can be just as good. Hell, Lance, you’ve qualified for the Grand Prix now! You are meant to be there. You earned it.”

 

“And what if I really fuck it up, Hunk? Then they’ll just see me for the shell I am.”

 

“Lance,” Hunk began emphatically. “First of all, you probably won’t mess up, and even if you do, everyone messes up. We’re all human here. Secondly, if you keep telling yourself that you will, then you probably will mess up. Thirdly, I know that you can you can skate really well and I believe in you. You’re not a shell! You are the most passionate skater I’ve met!”

 

Lance’s heart squeezes. Is he though? “Thanks, Hunk… I sure hope so”

 

“And,” Hunk continues. “One failure isn’t the end of your career. You should know that by now, and yeah I know that the Grand Prix has higher stakes, but did you see that Korean skater last Prix and then how he did at Four Continents?”

 

Lance shakes his head. He vaguely remembers a Korean skater.

 

“He totally screwed up his senior debut last year in the Cup of China but now he came back a few months later and won bronze. People say that his skating career will probably take off soon.”

 

“Really?” Lance asks, curious. He vaguely remembers something now, but he’s met so many people over the past year.

 

“Yeah you should look him up!”

 

“Yeah, maybe I will.” Lance smiles. “Thanks Hunk.”

“Anytime bro. Now what are you guys doing to celebrate? We are definitely doing something the next time I can see you.”

 

Lance quickly answers, thankful for the change in topic. “The fam is taking me out for a nice dinner and then there will be a party with the extended family this weekend.”

 

“You’re entire family is coming?!”

 

“Yeah,” Lance admits, knowing how Hunk had seen the whole family craziness last time everyone had gotten together. “Wish me luck.”

 

“I do. Have fun!” Hunk gives him a thumbs-up.

 

“Yeah I will, later dude.”

 

“Later.”

 

Lance clicks the end call button and leans back in his desk chair. What had he been thinking earlier? Oh right. Lance opens a new tab and types in “Korean figure skater Cup of China.” Videos immediately appear and Lance clicks on one. It shows a familiar looking guy in a black and red costume dancing to a classical composition. The video is grainy, so Lance barely sees the features of his face. After a minute, the hesitation and frustration screams in his movements. Yeah this skater isn’t doing well. Lance doesn’t even want to watch it all out of second hand embarrassment, but then the skater pulls off a swift and graceful quadruple flip, despite all of his failures before.

 

“ _Where did that come from?”_

 

Lance quickly pauses the video and opens another tab and types in the same thing except for the Four Continents this time. Waving the cursor, Lance opens another video and sees the same skater appears on the screen, skating much differently. The skater has more...passion? He definitely flows with more confidence on the ice, displaying his talent. The camera zooms in for a close up of his face and Lance gasps. The low quality video doesn’t give much away, but it shows enough for Lance to grasp the person’s face.

 

_“Wait a second where have I seen that guy before?”_

 

The skater sets up to jump an quadruple toe loop and pulls it off perfectly, whirling through the air and landing with a flourish. Without a pause for breath, the skater launches into the step sequence, constantly twisting and turning across the ice in quick, sharp movements with his arms and feet to suddenly transition into graceful sweepings of his legs and hips. The program demands a lot and the skater is pulling it off so well. The camera captures the expression on his face—mouth set in a thin grimace and thick brows furrowed.

 

“ _He’s doing an amazing job though.”_ Lance watches the entire program, mesmerized by the guy’s skating. How is this the same person from the other video? The skater finishes his program in a spin and then begins to bow as the fans scream. The video then shows him coming off the ice and into the kiss and cry.

 

_“He has really dark hair….And… is that a mullet???? Ew!!!!”_

 

Lance scoffs. Clearly this dude must be living under a rock if he still has that hairstyle. The video skips to the end where they announce the skater’s score.

 

“Keith Kogane at 107.55 for his free skate score and 230.04 overall, currently in third place.”

 

 _“Keith Kogane?! As in the Keith I’ve competed against? The one that I tried to beat?”_ Lance stares in shock at the connection, missing the small smile that lines Keith’s face at the announcement of his score. He had not known how good Keith is, but now that he’s seen it...wow. Some of Keith’s remarks make more sense now. He is good. Really good. The familiar prick of anxiety stings in Lance’s heart and he quickly closes the tab. So what if Keith is good? Hunk is right, he is good too. Just maybe not as good…

 

_“Uh stop it Lance!”_

 

The remaining tab still shows the Grand Prix, the program Keith had flubbed.

 

_“Well, it’s nice to know that even this guy can fall on his ass sometimes.”_

 

Lance closes out that tab as well, feeling substantially better after realizing that thought.

 

“Lance!” His mother calls from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

 

“Si, mama!” Lance calls back, blocking out any lingering thoughts. He is going to enjoy his family and his win tonight.

 

-

The laughter of Lance’s siblings permeates the air, as his mother’s voice rings across the table and his father’s claps call all attention to the glass raised in his hand.

 

“I’d like to say a toast, to Lance.” The fondness in his father’s eyes warm Lance’s heart and etches a smile onto his face. “You’ve worked so hard, stuck with your goals, and have made something truly beautiful out there. It has been such a privilege to watch you succeed.”

 

“Yes,” his mother adds, “We are so proud of you Lance.”

 

“Yeah Lance!” his sibling cheer and raise their glasses. Lance soaks in the bright scene, tracing every line for memory.

 

“Aw.. thanks you guys!”

 

“To Lance!” Everyone cheers and taps their glasses.

 

-

 

Lance had been so close to making it to the Grand Prix Final. So fucking close. There had been a two point difference between him and Keith at Skate America! Two points! But because of how his score placed at the first competition, the NHK Trophy, Lance didn’t make it the final. He had been right behind Keith. It has never been this frustrating, but after seeing Keith’s videos, Lance can tell that Keith hadn’t been at top performance today and he still beat him. Ugh.

 

Lance trudges out of the locker room. He knows just by his score today that he won’t advance, and he feels pretty heartbroken.

 

Oodles of reporters and cameras float about, but none towards him, which Lance is grateful for and slightly jealous of. He knows that they are looking for the medalists. For Keith.

Dammit why couldn’t he be more like him? If he could jump higher or spin faster...

 

 _“Ugh. I can’t believe he beat me again.”_ Lance sighs, suddenly feeling tired. All he wants right now is to lay in bed with his fuzzy blankets and a mug of something warm, but he is in Chicago now, so a hotel bed will have to do.

 

“ _I don’t even care that much about him.”_

 

“Hey!” A voice calls out behind him. Turning around, Lance groans internally. His wish will have to wait a little longer.

 

“You dropped these.” Lance looks down at the keychains in the person’s hand, the one of the little blue lion head on top. They must’ve come loose from his bag. “I noticed them cause the lion is a lot like one I have.”

 

“Ha, thanks,” he mutters, not feeling like socializing, but he brings himself to actually look into the person’s face.

 

_Keith Kogane._

 

“Oh,” Lance thinks aloud.

 

“Oh?” Keith questions.

 

“Uhhhh” Lance flounders. The heat of embarrassment rises to his cheeks and he says the first things that pops into his mind. “I’ll see you at Worlds!” With that he grabs the key chains and dashes away as fast as he can while trying to maintain his cool.

 

_“Dammit. Why did I say that of all things?! I totally sounded like an asshole. Now he’s really gonna hate me!”_

 

Lance rolls his eyes at himself, at this whole situation. All their bicking interactions aside, there is just something about Keith that bothers him.

 

Lance sighs. It’s not worth figuring out now. All he needs to do right now is just keep walking and ignore the sarcastic “Sure” that comes from behind him.


	4. Help Me Polarize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Hope you guys enjoy!

That had been weird. At least Keith had done the right thing and had given the other skater his fallen keychains. The other skater looks familiar, but Keith can’t place him. Based off of that reaction though, it seems like the other skater knows him...and doesn’t like him. Keith honestly isn’t surprised by that. He knows that he can come off harsh and his attitude towards other skaters when he was younger hadn’t been the best. It has already come back to bite him before, so why not now?

“Whatever.” He sighs. He can’t change it now.

“Hey,” Shiro nods behind him. “You ready to head out?”

“Yeah.” Keith relaxes at the thought of leaving, and starts walking, but he then he notices some people near the door looking askance at him. 

“Reporters probably. Great.”

“Keith Kogane?” One of them calls.

Yup.

“Do you plan to win the Grand Prix Final this year?”

Uh, what kind of question is that?

Keith schools his expression into something neutral as Shiro tenses at his side. Okay so maybe he should be more tactful in answering.

“Doesn’t every figure skater?” He counters.

The reporter frowns, not receiving the answer he wanted. 

“Anyone in particular who you want to beat?” Another asks.

They’re probably after a rivalry…

“No, competition is competition, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving now…” Blatant distaste illuminates the reports faces. “I would like to return to my training immediately.” With this new piece of information and affirmation that Keith isn’t avoiding them, just serious skater, the reporters’ faces ease. 

“Ah, well good luck Keith!” One of them calls from behind. Keith half turns and waves, aware of the cameras they have lingering around. Keith pushes through the clump, much to some of the clump’s protest, and walks out the door into the cool night air. He looks over to see Shiro smiling.

“What?” Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Ohhhh,” Shiro chuckles. “Your bluntness is great sometimes.”

At that Keith scoffs. He has to play nice for the reporters, but he gave them enough throughout the events of the day.

“Yeah well, they should back off when they see the face of someone who is 300% done.”

Shiro laughs. “Yes, they should. I’m proud of you for pulling out that “getting back to training” thing.” 

“Hm, well it’s not untrue.”

“True,” Shiro agrees.

-

“So how are you feeling?” Shiro asks over his huge bowl of salad. It’s a wonder as to how he hasn’t buried himself in it already.

Keith takes a moment to actually consider the real answer than just mindlessly saying that he is fine. The restaurant they are in emanates a comforting warmth, and it’s discreet location gives Keith some security. 

“I’m…..okay. I’m a little nervous.” Keith says reluctantly.

“Well, you have made it past where you got stuck before, and that’s something.” All the lines in Shiro’s face grow soft as he smiles. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

Keith swallows and stares at his pizza. Regardless of whether he has a competition or not, it is Keith’s cheat day and he is damn well taking it. Still, the comfort food in front of him isn’t doing much for him right now. Keith’s mind wanders. He misses the tteokbokki from Seoul and wishes he could have it right now. However, living with Shiro and training with him in Japan has been a blessing. He doesn’t have much of a family tie to Korea anymore, but damn he misses the food, and accepting Shiro’s avid encouragement can still be difficult...like right now. He isn’t used to being….coddled.

“Thank you,” he says firmly, without meeting Shiro’s eyes.

“I’m always here for you,” Shiro replies.

The corners of Keith’s mouth quirk up at that. “I know.”

-

The noise of the crowd pounds into Keith’s ear drums as he steps out onto the ice for his short program for the Grand Prix Final. He draws in a deep breath. He can do this. There is just the sea of white, red, black, and blue beyond the ice, and for some reason, Keith senses that his program will be different this time. As to how it will be different, Keith is unsure of, but regardless anticipation and excitement buzzes underneath his skin as he sweeps around the ice in sharp circles. His muscles poise to fight as he takes his beginning pose.

At the center of the ice, it is just him.

The music pours gently through the speakers, and this time, Keith is on top of it like never before. The beat picks up and he is there, hips swaying and skates digging into the ice.

Every sharp twist of his hands are on beat, and his arms follow perfectly with them. His skates cut his marks into the ice in perfect slashes, leaving trails of soft ice spray. His heart pounds blood steadily through his system, powering every last nerve and sarcomere. His jumps are filled with more energy than usual, but surprisingly Keith isn’t worried. The adrenaline explodes through this system with every precise turn, and Keith expects it to stop, but it does not. The crowd claps along as Keith really gets dancing, adding to the rhythm Keith has surrendered his body to. He adds more heel turns and hip pops as he goes, actually having some fun.

Keith shrugs off his jacket and tosses it into the crowd, which they greet with cheers. A smirk finds its way onto Keith’s lips. He soars across the ice and feels invincible. Now he is immediately suspicious. He never felt this good, and he can’t let himself grow lost in the music and lose his grounding focus.

“Now I just gotta keep this up.”

He really does not want to blow this. He’s gotta do it for Shiro, who has given him almost everything he has now. He’s gotta do it for himself, and for all the past days of training and standing up after crashing hard into the ice.

Keith goes to make his next jump, a quad toe loop, one of his favorites. He lands a little wobbly, but balances as he comes out of it. Anxiety trickles through his chest, but Keith tamps those feelings down. He has worked relentlessly with Shiro. He can make it through the rest of his program.

Keith performs the most complicated step sequence of his program easily, with a few bumps but he covers them well. The adrenaline drains from him as the program winds down. All he has left is a triple axel and single and then the finishing spin.

“C’mon, C’mon.”

Keith senses that he doesn’t have enough momentum to make the complete jump, but unfortunately he doesn’t have time to adjust. Going for it anyway, Keith leaps up and manages to pull off a clean double and single. 

Disappointed, Keith throws every ounce of effort into the spin, grinding the ice into a whirlwind of flakes with the speed of his blades. Maintaining his balance, he holds one leg up and begins to stand, finally finishing fully standing with both arms up. Before he loses himself in it, Keith breaks out of the spin to finish with a few sharp moves and the song ends.

The crowd erupts in overwhelming applause, startling Keith. He holds his pose for a minute, gasping for air, then remembers that he should probably wave. Lifting his arm is harder than it should be. 

Keith’s eyes widen. “I’m this sore?”

“Wow.”

Shiro is there waiting to immediately congratulate Keith as he drifts back to the sidelines. He’s never felt this exhausted after performing. A huge smile splits his face as he wraps Keith in a quick hug and hands him his skate guards. 

“You were great out there, kiddo,” he praises.

A small smile grace’s Keith’s expression, sincerity lining his features. “I was in it.”

Shiro’s smile grows impossibly wider. “I could tell.”

They make their way to the kiss and cry, awaiting Keith’s score. Keith chugs water as Shiro gives him more encouragement and advice. Keith slowly nods in response, slightly delirious from the tired and satisfying ache of his muscles. An attendant hands Keith a bouquet of flowers and a few plushies that people had thrown on the ice.

“Oh my gosh.” Keith’s eyes widen as he picks up one of the plushies.

“What?” Shiro asks.

Keith heart squeezes, but he manages to keep a straight face since he’s probably on camera. “Someone gave me a hippo plushie.” He holds up the purple hippo for Shiro to see. 

“It’s adorable,” Shiro laughs.

Keith nods, wondering if he had said that hippos are his favorite animal in an interview once, or if it is just by chance. Either way, Keith is touched. Keith squishes its face a little.

“Keith Kogane of South Korea, short program score 97.7.”

The crowd erupts with cheers. Keith releases a sigh of relief and Shiro claps a hand on his shoulder. Currently Keith is in first place by a wide margin, though the free skate tomorrow may change that. He can not let himself get comfortable. Still, it is nice to have a cushion. 

“I’m proud of you.” His smile practically beams and Keith is blinded. He smiles back as Shiro offers him a hand and they drift back to locker room. The high Keith feels reminds him of when he had first completed a jump—free.

“I’ll be at Worlds.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “That’s a little weird… when have I really cared? Huh.”

Too tired to dwell on a thought like that for any longer, Keith pushes it aside and begins his cool down. When he finishes and packs his bag, he signals to Shiro that he’s ready to leave. He is exhausted and usually doesn’t watch the other skaters. Keith hardly sees a point. It will just worry him more, regardless of how well he did today. 

Releasing a content sigh, Keith can’t wait to fall asleep.

-

Bits of his free skate flash through Keith’s mind as he trudges to the podium. He dreads what the reporters will try to stuff in his face: what happened out there, was this a relapse of his first Grand Prix, he could have done so much better, his fans are so disappointed, he must be disappointed too, ect. 

Keith shakes his head and frowns as he gets ready for the medal ceremony. He does not quite know what happened today...his emotions when he had been on the ice had been pandemonium at best, but what Keith sensed the most was fear. Fear. On the ice, on his safe haven. Keith had never experienced this fear before, and it scares him, which absolutely does not help. 

Shoving those thoughts aside, Keith remembers what he felt yesterday. His short program had been the most smooth he had skated in awhile, and that is all that really matters to him as a win. 

Keith’s heart twinges with regret when he considers Shiro’s disappointment. Shiro would never show it but Keith knows him better than that. Keith almost laughs at the irony. Shiro would be disappointed for Keith’s sake, while Keith only feels disappointed for Shiro’s sake. Amidst all the stress, Keith had forgotten for whom he is really doing all this. Shiro had saved him in so many ways. Keith owes him. The least he could do is try his hardest and win a few golds like they both know he can. 

The reporters flood Keith as he comes off the sidelines onto the ice for the medal ceremony. 

Here we go.

“Keith! How do you feel after that free skate?” 

“Do you think that the judging was incorrect?”

“Your fans are disappointed, what's your response to that?” 

Keith wishes he had his jacket on, so he could just duck his head underneath the collar and hide. So what if his performance had gone down hill in the free skate? He feels like he had already done well after the short program. Not a metal, but something else…. And no one can pluck that away. Keith can't just tell that to the reporters though, so he opts to ignore them. 

Bronze. 

Keith is okay with that. 

Keith blankly stares ahead as the reporters pester him with more questions. They are annoying, but Keith can’t blame them too much. They are just doing their jobs, though not always in the best ways….

“Still keeping third place warm I see,” a voice in front of him comments. “It’s a shame though. I thought that you would place at least second after watching that short program.”

Keith blinks in confusion. He has no idea who this guy is. “Um, can I help you?”

The man gasps in mock offense. “How could you not have heard of me before? We have competed multiple times against one another! However I do not hold it against you as I have never properly introduced myself. I am Lotor, three time champion of the Grand Prix.”  
Lotor offers his hand for Keith to shake and Keith is caught off guard. How has Keith never been aware of the guy until now? Sure, Keith hardly pays attention to his competitors but surely he would have been at least slightly aware of him if he had won the Grand Prix three times. Even then his long silver hair shines like a beacon and his blinding white teeth alone could draw a room’s attention.

Keith nods numbly and shakes Lotor’s hand. “I’m Keith.”

“I know,” Lotor smiles as he keeps holding Keith’s hand. “Your short program was fabulous.”

“Uh.” Keith isn’t used to compliments like this from people, much less other skaters. “Thanks….I’m sure you weren’t too bad yourself?” Keith grimaces as his attempt at politeness comes out as a question. 

“Thank you.” Lotor says as he raises Keith’s hand to his lips and places a light kiss on the back of it and winks. “See you on the podium.” 

Keith’s mouth is suddenly dry. What just happened? This is too much to process while on the ice, in front of reporters and cameras. Had Lotor just flirted with him? Oh gosh, had the reporters seen? Shit. A picture of them is probably going to appear somewhere. 

Uhhhhhhhhhh.

Suddenly it occurs to Keith that maybe Lotor had done that for the press. There are so many watching eyes here that nothing goes unnoticed….

Keith sighs. He can’t worry about it right now. All he needs to do is get through this ceremony and then he can hit up the dojo later and kick the crap out of some dummies however much he wants.

“At least I still have a chance at making Worlds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, this is the video that I used as inspiration for Keith's short program 
> 
> https://youtu.be/ptLRNVRA9ik


	5. Had to Have High, High Hopes for a Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long update wait! I'm still writing and I won't abandon this fic! Anyway, hope you enjoy, and don't worry, the klance is coming.

When the alarm clock starts its incessant beeping, Lance knows that he has to get up. He still doesn’t want to though. His morning wake up song couldn’t move him out of bed and that usually forebodes a bad day.  

 

Groaning, Lance rips himself from his warm, comfortable bed and drags himself to his alarm clock on the other side of the room. He is soooo tempted to lie back down, but Allura would kill him if he didn’t show up, and that would be worse.

 

After silencing the alarm, Lance relishes in the sweet silence that comes after, but then the thoughts from the night come crashing back into his brain.

 

_“What if you aren’t good enough this time? Or have you ever really been good enough at all? Can you even skate? --”_

 

Lance violently shakes his head. No. He is not thinking about that right now. He is a figure skater and he is going to practice today. Lance takes a deep breathe and strides to the bathroom to start his morning skin care routine.

 

-

 

Practice is hell. Lance’s feet start to shake in his skates from all the drills and moves Allura puts him though. Lance knows that he deserves some of it for showing up late to practice and that Allura wants to make him better, but Lance’s heart just isn’t in it today.

 

Allua approaches Lance after his fifth flubbed jump. “Lance, why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”

 

Lance’s face lights up. Allura rarely allows breaks.

 

“Yes, you’ve done enough for today. Come back focused tomorrow.”

 

Lance nods, understanding. “Sure thing. It must just be an off day today...”

 

Allura offers him a small smile. “I hope so. Take care of yourself Lance.”

 

Lance smiles back, though it feels a little hollow. “I will.”

 

Allura turns and glides away. It had been a nice morning outside. Maybe Lance will go for a walk. Packing his things, Lance’s heart lifts a little. He needs a break from all the pressure, and thankfully he’s getting one.

 

In the end, Lance decides to walk through the park a few blocks down, stopping by the local coffee shop first. The warm smell of fresh coffee beans and vanilla greets Lance as he walks in, and the cashier gives him a cheerful wave. Lance waves back with a smile. He loves this place. The people are always friendly and the comforting atmosphere of plush couches and charming chalkboard signs puts him at ease. Lance walks right up to the cashier and orders his usual two parts milk and sugar and one part coffee drink, with whip cream of course.

 

A content smile graces his face as he sips his drink, feeling at ease, a stark contrast to the ansty stress from before.

 

He plops down on one of the comfy chairs and continues to sip his coffee, content to just people watch for a while. A ginger haired girl typing furiously on her laptop keeps drawing his eye and Lance wonders what it’s about. It’s amazing how fast she has been typing nonstop for the past twenty minutes. Her face inches towards the screen the more she types and Lance can’t help the amused smile that forms on his lips when her nose bumps the screen, which causes her to whip her head up and leave her confused. For whatever she’s doing, she sure is dedicated.

 

Lance decides to buy her a coffee. She looks tired and like she’s not stopping anytime soon. He orders a regular black coffee so that she can add whatever she wants. She still might not want it though, but Lance figures that at the very least it’s just more coffee for himself.

 

“Don’t forget to take a sip sometimes,” Lance grins as he set the cup down.

 

The girl looks up through large, circular specs with round, amber eyes and blinks at him. Lance tries not to let his grin falter but the silence starts to get to him.

 

“Thank you,” the girl finally says as she looks down at the coffee and Lance releases the breathe had been holding.

 

“You’re welcome. I hope whatever you’re working on goes well.”

 

The girl gives him a small smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

 

Lance turns to go back to his seat, but then he notices one of the stickers adorning her laptop - ice skates.

 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt again, but are you into ice skating?” He asks, pointing to the sticker.

 

The girl looks up at him again and then he sees the thoughts click in her head.

 

“Oh! Yeah I am. I’m interning at the local rink to work tech as a side job, but I’ve done pair skating with my brother since forever.”

 

“The rink a couple blocks down?” The girl nods. “That’s where I skate!”

 

“Oh really? Cool!” The girl seems genuinely interested, and the possibility of a new friend excites Lance.

 

“What’s your name?” He asks.

 

“Technically Katie, but please call me Pidge.”

 

“Okay Pidge, I’m Lance.” Lance sticks out his hand to shake and Pidge obliges. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you too,” Pidge grins and then glances at her computer.

 

“How often do you go to the rink?”

 

“I’ll be there tomorrow actually.”

 

“Oh cool,” Lance beams. “I’ll see you then!”

 

“See you,” Katie smiles. “And thanks for the coffee, Lance!” Pidge calls as Lance walks towards the door.

 

“Anytime,” he waves.

 

Well that had felt nice, and now he’s made a new friend! Pidge seems pretty cool. Lance looks forward to getting to know her. He continues to sip his drink, strolling down the sidewalk, smiling at people as they pass by. Some smile back, some don’t, others never look at him, but Lance doesn’t mind. He likes smiling. He’ll give anyone a smile.

 

Lance walks until he finds himself in the local park and decides to sit down on a bench and take in the scene. It’s a lovely day out. The sunlight cascades through the trees, a breeze gently touches his face, and the sounds of laughter are heard all over the place. The fresh and cool air fills up his lungs as he reminds himself of the beauty of nature and the largeness of the world.

 

He watches some kids playing on the playground, reminded of his own siblings and cousins. How he used to play on the jungle gym. How they would be done doing that now. How much he’s missed. Lance pulls out his phone, thinking of the last time he called his mom. It had only been a week ago, but her missed the sound of her familiar and soothing voice already.

 

Maybe this is why he has been off lately. He’s just really missing home again—the sounds of his siblings barrelling down the hall to the breakfast table, the ocean waves acting as a metronome guiding him to sleep, the humming from his grandma as she knits on the living room couch.

 

Ugh, now his eyes are watery.

 

Lance sighs. He’s relieved that he now knows what has been tamping his mood down, but unfortunately, he can barely do anything about it. Skype calls are a godsend, but they can only do so much, especially since Lance is such a tactile person from a tactile family. The mere presence of his family even, can make such a difference.

 

But he cannot do anything about that right now. Well, except quit his skating career.

 

_That’s not happening._

 

Besides wanting to make his family proud, which is plenty of motivation for Lance, skating has become his life, his other love, his other home. Lance would never want to leave the ice. It means too much for him. He’s invested so much into it, and now he’s finally getting paid back.

He can’t leave now. He’s not satisfied. No matter how much Lance misses his family, he knows that he has to suffer through this, wants to suffer through this.

 

Another breeze caresses his face. He loves ice skating, and he loves his family, but right now he has a duty and a desire that he must finish and sate.

 

Lance checks his watch. The kids have left now, probably done with playing and going home for dinner. Lance should probably head back to his apartment, but he’s not ready to go home yet. Pulling himself off the bench, Lance walks through the park, enjoying the warmth from the sun’s dying light.

 

He can get through this.

 

-

 

Lance’s alarm blares through the darkness, cutting the silence with its merciless edge. Immediately Lance is out of bed and leaping to hit snooze. With the annoying beep off, Lance flops back into bed, entitled to a few more minutes of laying in the ocean of comfortable sheets and blankets.

 

When the alarm goes off for a third time, Lance knows he must get up. The plane departs at 10:00, and it’s at least a thirty minute drive to the airport. Sighing, Lance sits up, eyeing his already packed bags. He double checked last night, but he wants to be sure that he doesn’t forget anything. His strict routine will not be thrown off by no man, including himself.

 

Once he’s decided that he has everything, Lance enacts his skin care routine and tries to calm his jittery nerves.

 

_Just focus on getting to airport on time._

 

He really did not want to think about Worlds. He had had ample time to think last night, and he would have more hours on the plane.

 

-

 

The comforting touch of Allura’s hand on his shoulder provides a balm to Lance’s anxiety as he awaits his turn. He is next to go and the suspense wrings him out. Despite not making it to the Grand Prix Final, he qualified for Worlds, which surprised them all. Unfortunately, spots were made available due to injuries. The chance to compete at Worlds is amazing, and Lance is grateful, but he wishes that it had been all of his own merit, and that the injured skaters could have performed as well. They earned their positions after all. Lance is just third rate, after all.

 

The hand on his shoulder tightens. “Stop thinking so much Lance, or you’ll flub it. You can do this. You know how to skate and you do it well. Tell the story of the routine, Lance, and you’ll be good to go.” Allura gives him a confident smile, and Lance wishes that her confidence could find its way into his own heart.

 

“Thanks Allura,” he smiles, though it does not quite reach his eyes.

 

“You can do this,” she smiles again. “Besides,” she smirks. “I trained you myself.”

 

Her remark coaxes a chuckle out of Lance, who immediately feels a little lighter.

 

Yeah, this is why Allura is his favorite coach.

 

“Now go kick ass out there!” Allura slaps him hard on the back, and Lance stumbles a little, forgetting Allura’s strength.

 

He turns around with a cocky grin on his face and winks. “You betcha.”

 

Allura scoffs in response, but Lance sees the fond curve of her lips. Turning around, the ice beckons for his attention once again. Lance steps past the barrier and drifts into a figure eight, trying to relax his muscles, calm his mind.

 

Normally Lance would love the spotlight shining on him, but now all he can do to numb his shaking hands is to keep his mind devoid of the thousands and thousands of eyes that watch his every move. He can’t afford to mess up here, and he can’t afford the pressure of messing up throwing him off his game. Lance draws in another deep breath, a little less shaky than before. He will have to start soon, unable to drag this last minute warm-up out forever. He runs a hand through his carmel locks, trying to not let his shoulders noticeably sag as he comes to stand still and takes his position.

 

He can do this, and if he can’t...well, he’ll just have to live with that.

 

The music starts.

 

Lance slips into the routine like silk in a breeze, his broad shoulders imbuing his posture with elegance, his face molded into a cool regality. He moves his hands through the air as if he were an artist painting a picture of a sunset’s glow, all while twisting and turning his hips and legs across the ice. Drawing his nervousness inward, Lance tries to think about the song, to dance to it, to push those emotions forward into his skating with every sweep of his leg and raise of his arm.

 

He knows that since he can’t land quads, his presentation scores have to make up for it. Every move needs to be clean, precise, perfect, if he wants a place on the podium. He dips and turns and spins, every flick of the wrist and twist of the hip on beat to the song.

 

Lance tries to lose himself in the movements so that he can stay loose and maintain his flow. He relaxes his shoulders and basks in cool of the ice washing over him, calming him. He glides as if he’s somewhere else, floating along a river, appreciating the sun. However, Lance can sense himself falling behind.

 

_Uh oh. I relaxed too much._

He has been too preoccupied with the waves and has not generated enough energy to make it to the shore. Lance frowns. Of course this jump is one of the more difficult ones.

 

_Shit. I gotta jump anyway._

 

Lance clenches his jaw as the dread starts to freeze his muscles. He goes for the jump, but his apprehension causes him to stumble and though he manages to pull off enough rotations for the jump to count, he lands hard on his knees into the unforgiving ice.

 

Lance jerks up immediately, knowing that he’ll have massive bruises to add to the others marring his legs and struggles to find his groove again, but he knows he fights a losing battle. His heart pounds erratically and each nerve end splits. All the anxiety and dread starts to pour into his heart, and drowns Lance as he frantically tries to rebuild his walls.

 

_Shit._

 

Lance’s arms lose their fluidity and seem to move more like he’s fanning a growing fire.

 

_Shit I missed my chance._

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Was the tempo always like this?_

 

Lance can hardly keep up with the song now. His limbs are becoming uncooperative, but he launches himself into the next part of his routine. He has three more jumps left. If he can nail them, Lance may have a chance at regaining his pride. That is only if his presentation scores are perfect, though, which they definitely will not be considering how he’s already doing, and argh this is the hardest part. He can barely pull it off in practice.

 

_Shit shit shit._

 

Lance’s mind spirals, anxious thoughts congealing into a hurricane that rips through his mind.

 

_Hand here, foot there, now go go go!_

 

He manages to gain enough speed for his next jump, one that he thankfully knows well, and nails it. Lance glides perfectly back onto the ice, regaining a boost of confidence.

 

_Yeah! There we go!_

 

_Now I just gotta focus. Okay you’re gonna spread your arms here, and the half turn here…._

 

Lance loses his mind in his routine again, regaining some of his earlier rhythm. He blocks out what he has already done in the program, learning his lesson for the probably hundredth time.

 

_Just the now. Now. now. Now. Jump!_

 

Lance’s skates cut deep into the ice as he quickly thrusts himself up into the air for the triple axel. He wobbles a little as he lands, but he had enough rotations, so it should not be too harmful.

 

Lance throws on his winning smile, trying to still maintain it as the song reaches its happier climax. The anxiety and dread lurks on the edges of his eyes, but Lance is bound to the ice right now, with no getting off, and hey, he’ll give the people at least part of the show that they paid to see.

 

_Shut up! You are going to finish this. You have to finish this._

 

Lance grits his teeth through his plastered smile. Thinking about what he could have done will have to wait. Lance falls back into the practiced and repeated motions of his routine, but they lack the luster from before. Lance tries not to dwell on it too much- the lags in his movements, the Cuban flags waving in the stands, the tears that sit right behind his eyelids, ready to drop with the formation of the wrong thought.

 

 _Finish this, just finish this_.

 

Lance desperately tries to contain his heart. He focuses on the song lyrics, on the beat, and the sound of the notes and his skates skirting across the ice. After this step sequence, the hardest elements Lance has remaining are two jump combos. Luckily, the jumps are familiar, ones that he had first learned and has been doing for years now. Lance’s heart lifts at the small relief. He can definitely nail these. The smile on Lance’s face morphs into a more genuine curve.

 

Finishing the step sequence just fine, Lance launches into the first jump combo: a triple axel and then a double toe loop. He lands smoothly, skates drawing a satisfying curve in the ice. Lance’s confidence begins to rise again, and he skates the next movements with new vigor. His arms form wings behind him, and he slides one leg back behind him, lowering him down towards the ice like a lunge while still gliding along. After a few seconds, Lance pull himself up into the a near standing position, but turns as he does so and begins a spin just as the beat spikes. His long legs help him to leap off the ice again to finish off the jump elements of his routine.

 

_Damn. Okay we’re back now._

 

_It took me waaaay too long. Ugh._

 

Lance navigates through the last step sequence easily, much calmer than before. He decides that he is going to take his cheat day today. He needs some mocha ice cream after this. And a warm blanket. And then a rom com marathon. And some Star Wars.

 

With a lead heart, Lance forms the final pose as the song ends. The crowd responds with applause, but the clapping sounds like an awkward song. It takes all his remaining courage to lift his head smiling and wave towards the camera and the fans he has.

 

After a few moments, Lance turns and skates over to the barrier. He starts to feel angry with himself, burned by the flame in his heart that drives him to want to be better. Lance pretends to find the scuffs on his skates particularly deserving of his attention, not wanting to meet Allura’s gaze.

 

“Lance,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lance knows that she’s trying to be comforting and understanding, but in the moment it reeks of pity. Lance still doesn’t meet her eyes.

 

Thankfully, Allura takes the hint. “Alright, we’ll talk about it later, when you’re ready.”

 

Lance nods, and Allura squeezes his shoulder. They walk to the kiss and cry, Allura carving a path for Lance and sticking near him all the way. The time allows Lance to refortify his composure before he’s hit with the cameras again and his score.

 

Her hand squeezes his as they sit on the bench. Time seems to tick on for forever. Dread pools at the bottom of Lance’s stomach at the thought of hearing his score, but he wants this to be over. He wants to be home….. All that prevents him from booking it out of here is Allura’s anchoring presence.

 

The announcer's voice interrupts the din from the crowd and reporters in front of him.

 

“Lance McClain: Short Program Score: 70.78.”

 

Lance’s eyes widen. He currently holds the lowest score. _You gotta be kidding me._ When did his throat run dry? Lance can’t express any emotions while on camera. He has to contain it for everyone, for his family, and for himself. He- _Well after that mess I did better than I thought I did_ \- had been crushed, out there on the ice- _But damn it still burns._ Lance closes his eyes and   breaths.

 

His Free Skate tomorrow is gonna be hell.

 

-

 

There’s a distant tug pulling his awareness from oblivion. Lance protests and tries to pull his arm back but the tugging continues.

 

“Lance,” a voice calls from the darkness. “Lance, c’mon.”

 

_Noooo… Can’t I just sleep a little longer?_

 

“Lance c’mon you have to get up.” The new firmness of the voice prompts Lance to crack open an eye, now fully conscious and devoid of sweet oblivion. He recognizes Allura’s face in front of the amber street lights, and remembers how they are only in the taxi cab, not the hotel yet. The thought of not currently being in bed tugs at Lance’s heart, pulling the weight down further. He focuses on Allura, suddenly noticing the worry in her eyes, and sits up from where he had been laying his head on her lap.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

 

Allura’s brows furrow. “For what?”

 

“For...,” Lance pauses, realizing that he doesn’t have a reason to apologize, but just feels like he should. “For…” Lance sighs, and lifts his eyes to meet Allura’s. “Thank you.”

 

She smiles warmly back at him. “You’re welcome, Lance.”

 

Lance takes her offered hand, and after paying the cabbie, they check in to their hotel rooms. Once in his room, Lance dumps his duffle on the nearest flat surface, takes his toiletry bag out, and heads into the bathroom. Too exhausted to take in the modern appeal, Lance just quickly washes his face, applies a toner, and moisturizes. The puffiness around his eyes catch his attention; hopefully it will be gone by morning. Finished, Lance turns out the lights and only bothers to strip his pants before flopping onto the bed. He burrows under the covers, seeking the sweet darkness of sleep, but of course, by sudden magic he regains the energy to rethink all the events of the day. All the emotions he had been too tired to process minutes ago now flood into his system and fill him up, driving sleep’s gentle touch away.

 

_Dammit._

 

Lance sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He needs to sleep, but thoughts crowd his consciousness.  

 

_You could have done better with that jump. And your footwork had been so sloppy. There was that one shining moment there and yeah that one good jump but that hardly brought up your score. Yeah it was crap. So bad. You could’ve done better._

 

_Oh gosh was my family watching?_

 

_Was Hunk watching?_

__ Was….Keith? _ _ Lance’s brows scrunch and he shakes his head.  __ He probably hadn’t found the time. Or would have cared. Why would he care about watching my shit performance when he could be off celebrating his victory? ….. I made an ass of myself. That was embarrassing. But he deserved part of it too!  _ _ Lance shakes his head again.  __ Sleep. Sleep. _ _

 

_Uh. I never want to see a video of it. I really hope Allura doesn’t make me watch it anytime soon. My first ever skating performance was better than this. I’d rather watch that._

 

_Damn……….This is hard._

_But…..._

  


The darkness surrounds his consciousness, and he drifts into sleep.


	6. Flying High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the wait! Lack of motivation and time kept me form writing. :( I'm still going though, so don't worry. Any comments and criticisms are appreciated! Hope you enjoy.

Keith raises his hand to his mouth, yawning for the sixth time that morning and unfortunately alerting Shiro. Keith pinpoints the exact moment in which Shiro decides to say something and braces himself.

 

“Keith,” he calls out from the sidelines, voice laced with concern. “How have you been sleeping lately?” 

 

“Fine,” Keith replies curtly and continues his routine. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to skate. The feelings he caught from his short program before haunts him and he desperately wants to find that feeling again on the ice.

 

Shiro looks askance at him. “You have been working hard lately, so if you need a break—”

 

Keith stops skating the steps sequence before his quadruple toe loop and fully turns to Shiro. “I’m fine.” 

 

Shiro’s mouth immediately opens to retort but Keith continues. “I need this Shiro. I need to skate. Trust me. Please.”

 

Shiro doesn’t look pleased, but he relents. “Fine. But,” he raises his pointer finger, “Only if you cut back on your time at the dojo for the time being.”

 

“But—!” 

 

“No,” Shiro swipes his hand through the air, “I know you’ve been going there more since the last Grand Prix Final and it’s been wearing you out.”

 

Keith crosses his arms and doesn’t meet Shiro’s eyes for a few moments. “Fine,” he sighs. Shiro’s right; Keith has been pushing his limits, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to stop. But Keith knows that it is easier to give in to Shiro’s coaching than fight him. He is a world renowned figure skater afterall. 

 

Shiro brightens and drops his hand. “Okay, let’s practice that quadruple toe loop again.”

 

-

 

Worlds. It’s here. Keith breaths in the sanitized scent of the rink, plops his duffle on a bench, and immediately straps on his skates. Other figure skaters are already on the ice warming up on their practice day. Shiro sets his things on the bench as well. 

 

“How’re you feeling Keith?”

 

“Fine.” Keith looks up at Shiro and nods. “I think I’ll feel more confident after this.”

 

Shiro nods back affirmatively. “Right. Go ahead with your routine warm up. I’ll keep track of time for you.” 

 

“Thanks coach,” Keith smiles at him and takes off. He starts off with some easy maneuvers and skates the length of the rink to get a feel for the ice, wary of other skaters along the way. Fortunately, there’s plenty of space and lack of tension between the competitors in the building. A few skaters stand off to the side of the ice, and Keith catches some of their conversation as he drifts by.

 

“Hey did you hear that that Lotor guy decided to take the rest of the season off?”

 

“Oh, is that why everyone was raised in the line up?”

 

“I think. Also those injuries that happened to that skater from Thailand and the one from Spain.”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s awful for them.”

 

“Yes, definitely.”

 

Keith drifts out of earshot of the conversation, continuing with his warm up.  _ Hmm...Lotor… Where have I heard that name before? _

 

_ Oh he was the guy from the last Grand Prix… the guy who kissed my hand…. _

 

Keith grimaces a little in distaste. That had been weird to do with so many people around. Someone probably plastered a picture of it on a tabloid somewhere.

 

_ He’s not skating, huh? Well since he’s the guy that has been taking a lot of golds recently maybe I’ll have a better shot. _

 

Keith’s hopes rise a little, but he dampens them. He needs to skate his best, no matter the competition. 

 

_ Besides, it would be more satisfying to beat Lotor anyway. _

 

Keith shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and refocusing on the ice before him. He needs to start going through his programs, especially while there’s fewer skaters this early. Keith returns to the barrier where Shiro observes him. 

 

“Hey, I’m going to start now,” he says as passes by.

 

“Okay, don’t push it,” Shiro says and starts the timer on his watch.

 

Keith skates as close as he can to the center and notes the positions of the other skaters. Since they all have to share the rink, Keith will have to sacrifice some focus on perfecting his movements in order to make sure that he doesn’t collide with anyone. He breathes deeply, imagining the program song playing, and begins to move.

 

_ Here goes nothing. _

 

-

 

Keith enters his hotel room, immediately plops his duffle onto a table, and flops face-down onto the bed. It had only been practice but Keith’s eyes feel sunken into face.

 

_ Dammit, the jetlag has caught up to me. _

 

Luckily, Keith has another day until he’s skating. Slowly, Keith pushes himself off the fluffy comforter and stumbles into the bathroom to prepare for bed. The person who greets him in the mirror looks at him with doubt. He better nail it tomorrow.

 

-

 

_ Shhhhhhccshhhhh _

 

Keith’s skates scrapes against the ice in a satisfying whisper as he takes his starting pose for his short program. He’s the first to skate on the fresh ice. His score will be the one everyone else has to beat. A smirk forms on Keith’s face in anticipation for the drive of skating and the thrill of competition. He raises his hand above his head and leans on his back foot. 

 

The first piano chords trickle into the stadium, and Keith swinging his raised arm to the side, then turns, wrapping the same arm around his waist. The song picks up and he glides over the ice, in slower and graceful steps. He turns and revolves around the ice, trying to portray the meaning behind the lyrics: sadness but acceptance. Keith raises his arms and lunges, then jumps a quadruple toe loop when the song lifts. 

 

The song has a more mellow feel, so Keith mostly has smaller moves he executes quickly instead of bigger flashier jumps. His presentation score will have to be especially good to make up for it. Fortunately, Keith has this routine down. Keith lunges again, collapsing the side of his leg on the ice behind him as he throws his arms out, as if reaching for something. He raises his leg back up, turning from one direction to the next in sync with the music, and then launches himself into a quick spin while keeping one arm raised.

 

He waits for the music to calm down again and then stops the spin combination by skating towards the other end of the rink, throwing his arms opposite of his body as if throwing things away. Then Keith goes into the spread of an eagle pose, flying across the ice. He brings his hands to his face, exuding contemplation, then flings his arms up as the music bursts in volume and beat. He jumps as high as he can. The lack of momentum makes the jump especially difficult, but Keith makes it, smiling to himself.  _ That probably looked really good. _ Keith keeps twisting and turning to the song, trying to show the conflict, but ultimate decision of letting go. Keith imagines letting all the pain, and hate, and part cried tears fall to the ground. He imagines leaving all that has held him back. Keith’s past will always leave a shadow on his heart, but he doesn’t have to let it define him.

 

Keith flies through the second half of the routine, feeling at home in the song. He and Shiro had paid extra attention to this one. He skates the last sequence with additional flare for fun, adding hops in between the transitions from one direction to another. He keeps his arms above and in front of him the entire time, as if he were flying or surfing. His hands cut through the air in front of him as his skates cut a path through the ice.

 

All too soon the song slows for the final time and Keith spins, sticking his leg out and keeping one hand raised above him. He slows, stops with his arms crossed over his chest, facing the judges, and thrusts out his hands as the song finishes.

 

Keith smiles to himself. He did it. 

 

He takes deep breaths to control his breathing, and waves to the crowd, who eagerly throws plushies and flowers onto the ice. He’ll have to collect some of those later.

 

Keith’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps off the ice. Satisfaction warms his bones and he finds himself releasing a small smile that does not go unnoticed by Shiro.

 

“Keith! You did great!” Shiro claps him on the back, beaming.

 

“Thanks Shiro.”

 

Shiro continues to smile as they walk to the benches and Keith can’t help but laugh a little. That routine had been exhilarating, and completely worth all the hard falls and hard practices that he had endured. His heart still beats at a rapid tempo as he sits on the bench, awaiting his score. The wait feels like nothing and soon he hears his score. 

 

“Keith Kogane: Short Program Score: 90.8”

 

Keith’s eyes shoot wide open and his jaw loosens. Shiro’s arms around him grounds Keith in reality, and suddenly he can feel his heart  _ soaring _ . 

 

_ Wow. _

 

The corners of his mouth rises, and when he sees Shiro’s wide smile next to him, his own smile widens until his cheeks burn. Keith hadn’t been thinking of the score out there on the ice, but damn did he do something right. It felt right and he did right, and that was what most important to him. He returns Shiro’s hug briefly before they move on to the waiting room. 

 

After Keith had changed, he decides to stay and watch the other skaters. 

 

“Are you sure?” Shiro confirms. 

 

“Yeah, I just feel like it.” Keith blinks.

 

“Well after that performance today, you certainly don’t have anything to worry about.”

 

Keith smiles shyly back at him this time. “Yeah…”

 

“Hey, be proud of this! It’s okay to show it, as long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

 

“Right…”

 

“Okay, let’s go watch the others from the stands.”

 

“Okay.” Keith nods. The cold of the arena hits them as they head towards the stands and find a seat. The next skater has started their program already, and it seems to be going well. Keith notices how well in time their body moves to the music and finds himself entranced. 

 

“They are pretty good.” Shiro remarks. 

 

Keith nods his agreement, slowly coming back to reality after that skater’s performance. The score announced reflects the skaters performance, and nestles close to, but not above, Keith’s own score. 

 

Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that score, just focus on you, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith looks up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Good.” They resume watching and the next skater performing starts to skate their final warm-up laps. As the skater glides around, Keith notices how smooth he looks on the ice, as if his skate could cut through any surface and have the rest of his body slide though along with it. The skater looks tall as his long legs, accentuated by his dark blue pants, swipe and lunge, and his broad shoulders fill the sky blue ombre shirt. 

 

Keith gets a better look at the skater’s face when he comes closer to the barrier in order to have a final few words with his coach. Keith’s heart stops for a second.  _ Damn. He’s pretty. _

 

Suddenly a voice appears in his ear. “See something interesting?”

 

Keith whips his head towards Shiro, who stares at him innocently but with a knowing grin. Keith pushes his elbow into Shiro. “No,” he says and turns back around. 

 

“Are you sure?” Shiro teases, and is about to continue when the music cuts him off. The skater is already in the middle of the ice, starting his sequence. The lights reflect nicely off of the sequins on the skater’s shirt and the glitter on the skater’s cheekbones. 

 

The skater begins with slow, graceful movements, reminiscent of ballet. Each pose and swing of his arms or legs reflects the cool beat of the music, as if the skater himself had supernatural control over the ice—an ice prince. Keith watches entranced, wondering how the rest of the program will continue. The skater seems very talented, and Keith can’t help but appreciate it a little.

 

However, Keith senses a change in the skaters form, from the smooth swaying of his movements to a rocky, but subtle, jerkiness.  _ Uh oh, maybe nerves are getting to him. _

 

The skater moves to jump, but doesn’t have enough speed and he crashes back onto the ice when he lands with a loud scrape. 

 

“That’s gotta hurt,” Shiro whistles beside him. 

 

The skater sprung up quickly, continuing with his routine, but his movements chop through the air, frantic compared to his smoothness in the beginning. Keith glances at the judges, whose faces frown perpetually, but Keith sees the points being taken off as the skater falls out of rhythm with the music.  _ And he was doing so well too. _

 

The skater proceeds to make another jump, which he executes well, and he seems to regain confidence. The next step sequence recovers the cool, suave vibe from earlier, but Keith wonders if it is enough for the judges. The rest of the program goes well, but it’s not quite the same from the beginning. The skater smiles widely, pulling off his final jumps smoothly, but the glimmer in his eyes from before is absent. Keith decides that it’s not just because he’s so far away. For the skater’s finishing pose, he still smiles and waves to the crowd, seemingly unphased by his own performance. His coach meets him at the barrier, but he keep his head down the entire time.

 

Keith and Shiro wait for the score to be announced in silence. 

 

“Lance McClain: Short Program Score: 68.78.”

 

The skater, Lance, ( _ Have I hear that name before? _ ), ducks his head down for a few seconds, but when he lifts it back up, his face wears indifference.

 

“Well,” Shiro straightens, “are you ready to go?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith reluctantly agrees, his mind still focused on Lance’s face. As all the skaters have finished for the night, the crowd immediately begins to disperse while the staff announce final information. Keith and Shiro step down the bleachers and towards the locker room and exit for athletes. Keith scans the crowd, but sees few familiar faces.  _ Oh well. _

 

Keith and Shiro return to the hotel and when falling asleep, Keith closes his eyes to see a ghost of blue.

 

-

 

Keith gets out of bed before dawn the next morning, running through his pre-skate competition stretches, and decides to take a walk, eager to disperse some of his nerves. Stores begin to open for the day, opening windows and setting their display cases outside. Keith observes the contents of each curiously, soaking up the unfamiliar letters and brands and ogling the fresh pastries on display. Eventually he discovers a quaint park tucked between a few shops and sits on a park bench. His mind wanders back to that figure skater from last night, the Cuban guy. _ How will he do today? _ Keith draws in the cool morning air and clears all the thoughts forming in his brain.  _ Why do I even care? I just need to skate now. _ Staring up one last time at the gradually brightening sky, Keith re-centers himself for his next program, stands up, and walks back in the direction from which he came.

 

When he returns to the hotel, Keith finds Shiro awake and after decent breakfast, they head to the rink.

 

-

 

When Keith returns from the ice, his chest feels elated.  _ I did it. I did a damn good job. _ Satisfaction warmed Keith’s veins as he greeted Shiro at the barrier, who wore a smile only outmatched by Keith’s own.

 

“You’ve come so far, kiddo.” Shiro grabs Keith’s shoulder and pulls him close in for a hug. “From where you were when I first met you...to what I just saw now…” Shiro’s voice cracks slightly.  “I’m so proud of you.”

 

Keith buries his face into Shiro’s shoulder to fight the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.” He whispers. “For everything.”

 

Shiro pulls away to look at him. “You got it, Keith.” 

 

The two pull apart and stride towards the kiss and cry, ready to hear Keith’s final score. They both know that after his performance, it will be high. Despite a few mistakes here and there in presentation, the only mess up was a jump, but Keith’s other elements were perfect, and after the flubbed jump, Keith had increased his jump combos to score more points. 

 

“That was some smart thinking out there,” Shiro comments. “I would have done the same thing myself.” Keith tries not to let the huge grin appear on his face as he says thank you. Several staff members hand him bouquets and plushies, which he places on the bench, though he keeps the lion plushie in his hands. 

 

The speakers crack overhead. “Keith Kogane of South Korea : Free Program Score : 160.1”

 

Keith’s heart is gone, out of his body. He can’t feel it anymore, but he feels Shiro’s megawatt smile forming.

 

“Overall Score : 250.9”

 

Shiro jumps up while shock freezes Keith.

 

“Current standings: First Place.”

 

Shiro’s arms wraps around his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Keith.” Keith’s arms move on their own to reciprocate the hug. He can’t believe it. He technically hasn’t won yet, but there’s only one skater left to go after him, and that skater is... _ Lan- or wait,...Luke? _

 

-

 

As soon as Keith finishes his cool down stretches and exists the locker rooms, reporters whisk him away to get a few words from him before the medal ceremony. Still high off of his performance and discombobulated from everything, Keith doesn’t mind the pestering questions and ignores the reporters already announcing his victory. They keep his attention until they finally release him as they go prepare for the ceremony. Keith completely missed the last free program performance. Oh well. 

 

Keith heads to locker room to find Shiro once all the reporters are completely gone. He passes by a side room and locks eyes with a tanned skin, brown haired, blue eyed (he has blue eyes) boy. Keith smiles hesitantly at the guy but only meets a disgusted expression. The boy is turning away, but then turns back towards Keith and steps towards him. He looks like he will say something, or..maybe he’s just going to keep glaring??? 

 

Keith decides to cut to the point. “What’s your problem?”

 

“My problem?” The boy looks incredulous.  _ Maybe that wasn’t the right way to ask. _ “My problem is you.” Anger burns behind those bright blue eyes. “One day I’m gonna beat your ass, Kogane. Watch out.”

 

Where the hell is this guy coming from? “Uh,” Keith crosses his arms, “do I know you?”

 

The guy turns around, mouth agape, sharply waving his free hand towards Keith. “You,” he points, “you don’t remember me?” 

 

Keith shakes his head. The boy’s eyes narrow. “The name’s Lance. Lance McClain. Your rival.”

 

Keith stares at him in confusion and frowns. He has a rival? “I’m pretty sure I’ve barely seen you before.”  

 

“Oh my gosh.” Lance slaps a hand over his mouth and slouches for a second before he straightens with a glare.

 

“Lance!” A voice calls from around the corner. Lance grimaces and turns to leave, but looks back over his shoulder at Keith.

 

“Whatever, Kogane. Just watch out.”

 

“Okay… will do….” Keith scowls, unsure of what to make of the situation but unappreciative of the hostility.  _ What’s this guy’s problem? _

 

“Keith!” A familiar voice calls out. Shiro strides over to him and Keith relaxes. “You almost ready for the medals ceremony?” Keith nods. “Good, because I’d like to introduce you to some people.”

 

Keith groans. “How many?” Shiro just chuckles and steers Keith towards the hallway. 

 

“Not many, I promise.”

 

\- 

 

Lance. 

 

The name rings a bell now. Keith suddenly realizes that he had met Lance before, really early on when he had recently been noticed as a potential skater to compete internationally. Keith had only just come out of the foster care system a few years before, so he still had an attitude that came off as harsh to other kids, especially around his age. Now that he thinks about it, Keith remembers a tall, tan boy that he had told to fuck off. Then that said tan boy had challenged him to winning the gold medal of the next competition they competed in, and Keith had won that competition. It had not been meaningful to Keith at the time, but now Keith wonders what it had meant for Lance. Keith doesn’t remember seeing him after that. He hardly knows the names of his competitors, but he would probably remember Lance if he had challenged him outright again. 

 

Keith presses his lips together in thought. It must have sucked for Lance to skate after him during the free program. If Shiro was still skating and Keith had to skate after him in a competition? Keith would be nervous as hell to be a fellow competitor... It still must be different for Lance though, as he probably does not look up to Keith as Keith looks up to Shiro. Lance said they were... _ rivals. _

 

Keith swigs some water to dilute the bad taste in his mouth.  _ Well, I’ll just have to try not to provoke him…  _ Keith caps the water bottle.  _ But I’m still gonna win. _

 

“What are you smirking at?” Shiro breaks Keith out of his thoughts. “Our flight is about to board.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song that I was listening to while writing Keith's short program 
> 
> https://youtu.be/adTDCx-8JsM


	7. King of the Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so sorry for the long wait, life got really busy. Hope you enjoy!

“A gold metal, Hunk! And he flopped the same jump that I did!” Lance kicks the side of his duffle bag in frustration.

 

“Yeah,” Hunk admits, “but the rest of his program _was_ amazing.”

 

“Uhhhhh, I know Hunk. It’s just so…...ugh! I know that I could be that good….How can he even be that good. I’ve been competing longer and he just swoops in and is already taking gold,” Lance sighs, plopping his cheek into his palm.

 

“Yeah, buddy, you can get to that level though. Sometimes it just takes other people longer. You’ll get gold. You’re the most hard working skater I know.” Hunk smiles warmly.

 

Lance weakly smiles back. “Yeah, I know.” He sighs. “It’s just annoying sometimes when people are automatically better at things…and are jerks about it.....Just wait Hunk, once I’m over my chronic anxiety and insecurity, it’s all over for those people.”

 

Hunk laughs and slaps Lance on the back, “I bet money, now, let’s start our warm-ups.”

 

“Yeah yeah.” Lance stands and moves to the wall to start his stretches with Hunk. “It just irks me though.”

 

“Keith’s performance?” Hunk asks as he bends down to grab his ankles.

 

“Yeah, there’s just something about it that annoys me…” Lance replies as he bends at the waist and puts his hands on the wall. “Like…. Like he just looks so effortless on the ice??? But also super strong…?”

 

“Hmmm, yeah I guess I see that too.” Hunk stand back up and moves into the same position as Lance.

 

“Like he’s just got a lot of power even though it doesn’t outwardly show in his skating style.” Hunk makes a noncommittal sound as Lance continues. “I don’t know...His skating just seems really sharp, almost brash, but it doesn’t look ugly somehow.”

 

“Sharp?” Hunk repeats amused. “Where did ya get from?”

 

“I don’t know, that’s what it just feels like.” Lance stands back up and stretches his arms over his head a few times, then across his body.

 

“Huh, interesting.” Lance raises an eyebrow at his friend’s response, but doesn’t comment. The rink is strangely less crowded and noisy today, which puts off Lance’s mood. He’s gotten used to the lively atmosphere of his base rink, but now there’s a familiar shadow up in on of the stadium boxes and suddenly music begins blasting through the speakers. Lance smirks and gives a thumbs up toward the booth, shouting, “Thanks Pidge!”

 

Hunk chuckles, “You’re probably going to regret that later bro. You know that you and Pidge have different music tastes.”

 

Lance sighs, knowing that Hunk is probably right. “Well the song right now is a compromise, so as long as-”

 

Suddenly the music stops and the song switches to some probably-MCR-inspired alternative rock song and Hunk just laughs at Lance’s open mouth and then his slowly lifting hand flipping Pidge off, who already has her middle finger up to match his with a smug grin. Hunk walks up to Lance and grabs his shoulder, dragging him away from his death starring with Pidge and towards the ice.

 

“C’mon, we got work to do. You wanna beat Keith right?”

 

“Of course I want to beat Keith! We’re rivals! I have to! I will! But Pidge better play some better songs at some point during this session.” Lance crosses his arms, while Hunks offers him a sympathetic smile.

 

-

 

“Uh, I can’t wait to eat food. It’s been awhile since I’ve done so many jumps in one practice.”

 

“You were killing it out there though, buddy! Why don’t we go to our coffee shop?” Lance suggests. Hunk immediately sits up at that.

 

“The one two blocks down?!”

 

A slow smile appears on Lance’s face. “Yeah, you know it.”

 

“Yes!” Hunk stands up and pumps his fists in the air. “Let’s go!”

 

A voice pipes up behind them. “What happened to being tired?”

 

“Pidge!” Hunk turned towards her. “You should come with us!”

 

“Yeah, they have the best frappes.” Lance chimes in. Pidge adjusts her large, round glasses, contemplating.

 

“Well, I guess if it gets Hunk this excited, then it’s worth checking out.”

 

“Truth,” Lance nods while Hunk cheers. “I’m gonna take my skates off and then I’ll be ready.”

 

“Okay, let me just grab my bag from the tech room.” Pidge turns to leave.

 

“Let’s meet out front then,” Lance says.

 

“Okay,” Pidge nods, walking away. Lance turns to Hunk, who’s rifling through his duffle for his other skate guard.

 

“Hey, I’m gonna grab something from the locker room and then I’ll meet you guys.”

 

“Okay, cool,” Hunk acknowledges. Lance grabs his own duffle from under the bench and heads towards the locker rooms, stopping to refill his water bottle on the way. Lance reaches his locker and takes a second to stare at the whiteboard he has on the inside of the door. At the beginning of the year he had written down his skating goals. So far, his progress in competition is severely lacking, much to his disappointment. However, with each practice, Lance feels his improvement in skating. Just today he nailed all of his program jump combos, and last week he made more rotations in a spin than he ever has. He’s coming along. _“But will it be enough?”_

 

Lance sighs and grabs the skating jacket that he had left last week. To stay the longest on the ice, to have the best performance, Lance will have to skate to his utmost. He slams the locker closed and meets his friends outside. They walk down the street, chatting about their favorite vines and videos. As they enter the café, the conversation shifts to video games, with Pidge agreeing to join them for a few rounds sometime that week.

 

“Lance and I aren’t super hardcore, but there have been a few late nights,” Hunk admits.

 

“Oh,” Pidge smirks. “I am very familiar with late nights, or, I should really say earlier mornings.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Lance interjects, “What’s the longest you’ve gamed?”

 

“Ohhhh…” Pidge pretends to think, “Fifty something?”

 

“Fifty?!” Hunk’s jaw drops.

 

“What?! How is that humanly possible?” Lance’s hands wave above his head.

 

Pidge only looks 2% sheepish and shrugs. “I’m hardcore my dudes. Also I have a brother who’s just as competitive as me.”

 

Lance hums. “I know the feeling.”

 

Pidge turns to him. “You have siblings?”

 

“Oh yeah!” Lance smiles. “I have one sister and one brother, but when all my cousins come to visit, it gets sooo crazy.”

 

“Yeah,” Hunk nods. “I can attest to that. One time during the holidays I went home with Lance for a few days and my ears were ringing the entire trip. A pillow got accidentally flung into my face multiple times too.”

 

“Yeah…” Lance grimaces.

 

“It was all good though,” Hunk reassures. “His family is super friendly and his parents are the best cooks.”

 

“I don’t like big crowds, but they sound nice,” Pidge says.

 

“Thanks,” Lance grins.

 

“Damn this line is long,” Pidge comments.

 

“Yeah, I bet a bunch of college classes just let out.” Hunk crosses his arms as he prepares to keep waiting in line for awhile.

 

“Oh yeah, Pidge, are you going to university here?” Lance asks.

 

“Yeah, I am! I haven’t decided my major yet since there is just so much I want to work on, but something in the radius of robotics, engineering, and computer science. What about you guys?”

 

“Whoa, cool!” Hunk beams. “I’m looking at engineering. I’ve always loved it.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance agrees. “Hunk can fix almost anything.”

 

Hunk blushes a little. “Okay, not completely true though.”  

 

“Well, you fixed my toaster, so that means that you’re a hero to me.”

 

“Okay fine,” Hunk sighs.

 

“Anyway,” Lance continues, having won. “I’m going to try marine biology. The ocean is my second love after skating.”

 

“Oh cool.” Pidge adjusts her glasses again, looking towards the counter. “Oh sweet, it’s finally our turn to order.” Pidge walks up to the cashier and waits with Hunk and Lance for all their orders. Then they sit on the cozy armchairs arranged by the fireplace and sip their coffees. A few television screens project overhead, but no one notices until the sports station turns to the familiar topic of skating.

 

“Oh hey guys, look.” Hunk points to the screen nearest to them. Pidge and Lance cease their conversation and turn to look.

 

“In other skating news, Three Time Grand Prix Champion skater, Lotor, will be taking off another season. Fans are concerned that the time away from the ice will affect him when he returns and some even speculate that the skater may never come back, as he is already 24 and will most likely have a shorter career. However, his coach recently stated that, “[Lotor] will definitely come back to the ice,” and “be greater than ever after these deliberate breaks.”  

 

“I wonder if he’s actually gonna do well after taking two years off,” Hunk muses.

 

“Yeah, that’s gotta be tough…” Lance’s brows scrunch. “Skating careers don’t last long.. It would be hard to stay away for two years.”

 

“Actually I heard that he’s having some type of surgery,” Pidge pipes up.

 

“Surgery?” Hunk’s eyes widen. “Do you know what kind?”

 

“Unfortunately no. It’s been pretty clandestine.” Pidge shrugs, “But things manage to slip through the cracks.”

 

Lance’s eyebrow raises as he takes another sip of coffee. “Care to elaborate, Pidge?”

 

“Well….” She trails off. “I just know some people.” Hunk and Lance both give skeptical and concerned looks.

 

“Okay,” Pidge says. “I’ve met people at tech conventions and online over the years and we keep in touch.” Hunk and Lance seem to relax a little at that. “So yeah, I know people.” She stares at them and lowers her voice. “It’s a dark world out there.” Lance chuckles a little at her dramatics but Hunk just stares at his bagel and says, “Indeed.”

 

-

 

Ten weeks later, Lance sits in an airport again, sipping a strawberry smoothie and waiting for the call to begin boarding. He reads the “good luck” paragraph text from his aunt, and the pithy, but sweet, well wishes from his cousins. He left his family in the airport before he entered the security checkpoint, reveling in their warm hugs for the last time of the year. After spending a sweet chunk of his summer with his family in Cuba, Lance got a good tan and a well needed emotional boost. Seeing his family again after two years reinvigorated Lance’s heart. They updated him on their lives, showered him with affection, and encouraged him to keep skating. Lance visited his childhood rink and coach, who was ecstatic to see him.

 

Now Lance is flying back to the U.S., a myriad of skate program ideas bouncing around in is head. With the improvements he made last season and the upcoming weeks of practice ahead of him, Lance should be able to pull off a higher tempo, a more difficult program, which opens lots of doors. There’s lots of good music to pick from too.

 

The attendant calls his section and Lance jumps out of his seat, both anxious and reluctant to go back to Detroit. Leaving home still hurts a little, but the possibilities of the next season excites Lance (and seeing Hunk is a supreme plus). The prospect of accomplishment fills his heart. He will have to work extra hard this season, but Lance knows that he can do it. He can do it. Finally on the plane, Lance settles in for the long flight, selecting one of the offered movies and curling up with his neck pillow.

 

-

 

“Nice work, Lance!” Allura applauds from behind the barrier. “I think that was your best performance yet!”

 

Lance glides over to her, a smile warming his face, “Thanks, Coach.” The new program they had created really resonated with him, more than any of the others.

 

“Your hard work has really paid off.” Allura looks at him seriously, but her small smile shines through. “You should be proud of yourself, Lance. That new workout and practice regimen you made has really helped you”

 

Lance shrugs, “It wouldn’t have worked without your input.” He had immediately written a new workout and practice program for himself after returning from break. He needed to be hitting the gym hard if he wanted to pull off all the jumps he wanted to include in the new program. After talking to Allura about it, she had suggested trying several new things and cutting some of it, which Lance had reluctantly agreed to.

 

“All the same, you came up with it. Now, let’s go over the second section again.”

 

Lance nods and skates away, rehearsing his moves while Allura critiques. No one else has practice today so they continue uninterrupted for hours until they have to stop for the day.

 

Allura slings her bag over her shoulder and walks out with Lance. “Good job today, Lance. You’re progressing well with this program.”

 

“Thank you… I feel like this could be the one.” Lance opens the door, immediately missing the cool air conditioning. Allura pauses, turning to him.

 

“Remember to not bank on that, Lance. I know that by now you’ve learned, but just focus on doing your best, not living up to a certain image.”

 

Lance smiles for her. “I know. I learned.” The thought of his past break down and insecurity mental cycle still stings, but he’s been moving on from that.

 

Allura squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “You can do this Lance. Don’t get so caught up in your thoughts, okay?”

 

Lance nods. “Okay.” Allura smiles, waving as she walks away. Lance turns towards the direction of the subway, sighing. He may have learned from last time, but not drowning in his thoughts? What a job. He walks towards the station, trying to internalize Allura’s advice. She has always been there for him, and a pillar of support as his coach, so he trusts her advice, but sometimes Lance wonders if there’s something better...Something that could help in more, in some way that he doesn’t know he needs. Lance thinks of Hunk, and how less full his life would feel if his friendship with him didn’t exist. Hunk supported him in a way different from Allura, with warm hugs and comfort and patience. His resolve to continue skating would have completely shattered without Hunk in his life, and after his major meltdown, Lance promised himself to be able to be strong on is own. He wouldn’t make in skating otherwise. When you are on the ice, you are alone. To skate well means being able to be strong on your own.

 

Lance finds a seat and closes his eyes. He has progressed so far in mental strength with how much he has been pushing his body, and after spending time with his family rejuvenated him, so he should be okay this season. However, a tiny part of him doubts, the part that always imagines the worst, and the part that Lance promptly tells to shut up. The car stops and he steps off into the station, exiting back up onto the street. He stops by the small market at the corner for some groceries, and then heads down the block to his and Hunk’s shared apartment. Now that they start their next year, they can live off campus, and decided to be roommates.

 

The faint scents of multiple spices float down the stairwell, and Lance smiles as he confirms that the delicious aroma comes from their apartment. Hunk only had a class today, so he must have decided to make dinner early. Lance opens the door, his nostrils floored with the spices, and calls out his gratitude to Hunk, who responds with a chuckle.

 

“Wait till you taste it! C’mere, is this too spicy?” Hunk holds up a spoon full of sauce, which Lance takes eagerly.

 

“Ooh, that’s got some heat, but nothing I can’t handle buddy!” Lance licks his lips after finishing the spoon.

 

Hunk laughs. “Okay, well I guess it’s fine then. I’m making rice too, so we should be good.” Hunk eyes the bag Lance holds. “What did you get at the store?”

 

“Oh!” Lance sets the bag down on the counter and starting taking everything out. “I go the eggs you said you needed this morning, some more protein powder, and Cheetos.”

 

Hunk levels Lance with a look. “What?!” Lance squawks. “They are the hot ones and they were on sale. Don’t judge me, I know that you’re a weak man for them too.” Lance crosses his arms.

 

Hunk sighs and turns back to the stove. “Yeah you’re right. But we’re eating them slowly. I don’t want to mess up our diets.”

 

“Yes sir!” Lance salutes.

 

-

 

After dinner, Hunk and Lance sit in their modest living room and study calculus together, both perplexed by the amount of concepts there are to study for their first assignment.

 

“Uhhhh,” Hunk drags his hand down the side of his face. “I do not remember calc being this hard in high school. And I took AP.”

 

Lance lifts his head from where it had been resting on the textbook in front of him. “I think it’s universal that calc is hard.”

 

“Ugh.” Hunk groaned. “This is sad. This is basically most of my major.”

 

“Yeah this sucks for you.”

 

“Wow, so helpful Lance.”

 

“Sorry, man. I wish I could help.” Lance plops his head onto his textbook again, and maneuvers his legs so that they don’t bang against the coffee table. “Ya know….I bet Pidge would be the person who finds calc easy. Maybe you should talk to her.”

 

Hunk hums. “Yeah you might be right… Yeah I’ll ask her next practice. I’ll take anything at this point.”

 

“Yes, become a calc genius and then bestow your knowledge on me.”

 

Hunks laughs. “Sure thing Lance.”

 

“Well,” Lance stands up. “We’re probably not going to get anything else down for tonight.” Lance closes his textbook and Hunk follows suite, gathering all his notes. After saying goodnight they retire to their separate rooms, but Lance stays up awhile longer, scrolling on his phone and waiting to hear Hunk’s quiet snores through the walls. _Thank goodness Hunk is a quick sleeper._

 

Lance gets dressed and repacks his duffle, quietly exiting his room. He confirms that Hunk is asleep, and slips out of the apartment. He jogs down the street, barely catching the train, and gets off at the stop nearest to the rink. He jogs around to the back of the building and finds the window that he had left unlocked. Opening it and squeezing through, Lance enters and turns on some of the lights so he’s not stumbling in the dark. He sets his things on the bench and dons his ice skates.

 

The eerie silence encompasses the rink as Lance steps onto the ice, the grind of his skates the only sound. Slowly, Lance glides to the center, imagining music strum in the background. He raises his arms above his head as if holding a bow and pulling back an arrow with this right foot set behind his left. Lance adjusts each angle while holding the pose, getting a feel for how he wanted it to look. Once satisfied, Lance continues through his routine, polishing his step sequences and doing a few spins. After slowly going through his program sequences a few times, Lance attempts to do a few jumps for practice and for fun, but not for his routine.

 

_Uh, I should be doing the harder ones…. But Allura isn’t here, and even I’m not that stupid._

 

Lance runs through the program again, mindful of all the adjustments he made. He keeps his arms up and feet in sync as he moves to the silent beat, and only stops when he feels marginally satisfied. Sighing, he checks the time on his phone. It’s 2 AM now and he should really be at home. Lance drags himself off the ice, into his running shoes, and out of the rink. He jogs all the way back to his apartment, grateful for the late day tomorrow. Allura would have his head if she found out about these night practices, but Lance has seen himself improving.

 

Lance slips into the apartment, grabs some water from the kitchen, and tiptoes past Hunk’s room. He quickly showers off, exfoliates, and flops into bed, ready for sleep to whisk him away. He pulls sheets and blankets around him, and relaxes all the tense muscles from the work out. Lance mentally notes that he should stretch very well in the morning if he doesn’t want to pull something. Sighing, Lance slowly drifts off.

 

-

 

“Hunk, hUNk, HUNK!!!!!”

 

“What, Lance?!”

 

Lance jumps up and down in front of Hunk and waves his arms in his face. “I was assigned to Skate Canada!! We’ll be in the same place!!!”

 

Hunk smiles wide, “Yes! That’s great!!! It’s been so long since we were so close!”

 

“I know right?! I hope our schedules work out so we can cheer each other on.”

 

Hunk wraps Lance into a hug, appreciative of his best friend’s enthusiasm. “I’ll definitely be there to root for you buddy.”

 

Lance returns the hug with a smile. “Thanks, Hunk.”

 

“Do you think you’ll be ready in time?” Hunk releases Lance and watches carefully for Lance’s reaction. Lance grins while closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

 

“Yeah,” he answers. “I think I am.”

 

Hunk smiles at him. “Good, I’m glad. You’ve been working super hard this season.”

 

Lance nods. _If only you knew_. “Yeah, and you too! How do you and Shay feel about it?”

 

“I think we’re ready….. Or at least, I’m no more anxious than normal.” Hunk chuckles. Lance past his shoulder, fully aware of Hunk’s bouts of anxiousness before competition.

 

“Well you’re gonna have me there for the first one and my luck is long-lasting!”

 

Hunk smiles at Lance’s antics and friendship, “Thanks buddy.” Lance props his arm up on Hunk’s shoulder.

 

“Anytime. So, food?”

 

Hunk nods. “Food.”

 

-

 

Lance resists the urge to chew on his nails as he waits to check in for his next competition. The high from winning bronze in Skate Canada, much to his joy and Hunk’s whooping, and Hunk and Shay’s placing of 2nd, had him _living_ , but now as he’s about to compete in Skate America, the nerves have returned.

 

Fortunately, his sister, Veronica, who studies in Ohio, can come to watch him skate. It would be nice to have someone from his family there, though a little more nervous than usual as well.

 

Skate America. He’s competing in his base country. Unfortunately Hunk can’t accompany him this time as they were assigned different competitions, but they were used to that. Once Lance checks in, he follows the signs to the locker rooms, and begins stretching.

 

Allura meets him at the barrier before he begins skating, giving him an updates of news on other skaters--apparently Lotor is still taking a hiatus--and a few encouraging remarks.

 

“Go warm up like normal, Lance. You know what to do.”

 

Lance grins, “Thanks coach.” He turns and surveys the ice, thankful that the ice is not very occupied at the moment. Allura pats him on the back.

 

“I’ll be waiting over on the bench over there.” She points to the other side of the rink. “Just take it slow and easy. I’ll watch your time.”

 

Lance nods and walks to the opening, finally stepping onto the ice. The cold seems to shoot through his skates and into his bones, but Lance knows that it’s all in his head. He draws in a slow breath and begins his warm up, mindful of others on the ice.

 

The chill from the ice seeps into his muscles, spurring him to move across the ice. He pumps his arms and legs to other side, then begins practicing some of the moves from his step sequences. Thankfully all his muscles feel loose and Lance decides to try an easy jump.

 

_Alright. Here we go._

 

He moves towards the most open space, building speed, and leaps into the air, turning once, twice, landing and jumping again. His arms fly out as he nails the second landing, balancing him as his leg extends back. A smile breaks out onto his face. The jump felt perfect. He turns to Allura, who gives him a wide smile and a thumbs up.

 

The rest of Lance’s warm-up goes smoothly, much to Lance’s relief. Afterwards, he and Allura hit some of the local shops to take his mind off of the competition, though as they pass the third dress shop, he feels tension settle in his shoulders. He releases a sigh, which Allura notices.

 

“Hey, let’s stop in here.” She suggests. Lance turns to the shop she’s pointing to. It’s a simple café, with green siding, a large window showing the cozy furniture inside, and fairy lights illuminating both the inside and an outside seating area.

 

“Sure,” Lance agrees. He could use something warm right now.

 

“I’ll pay,” Allura insists, and Lance concedes, knowing from past experience that it would be pointless to argue with her. The warm air and scent of coffee beans hits their faces as they step inside, blowing away the chill of winter. Allura orders while Lance finds a seat, and once she returns they chat for awhile.

 

“You know, I always thought that I was just a weirdo for eating shredded cheese straight from the bag until I told Hunk and he sent me all these memes about it.” Lance giggles.

 

“What? I must see these memes.” Allura wears an amused smile.

 

“Oh they’re so good.” Lance pulls out his phone and scrolls through his pictures, determined to find the memes.

 

“I understand wanting to do that though,” Allura says more thoughtfully. “I get a hankering to eat some cheese sometimes.”

 

“At 3 AM?” Lance jokes.

 

“Yes,” answers Allura emphatically. Lance’s eyes widen.

 

“For real?” Allura looks away, slightly embarrassed.

 

“Actually, yes.”

 

“No way! Almost all the memes specifically say “at 3 AM” for eating cheese out of the bag!” Lance brandishes his phone, scrolling through all the memes for Allura.

 

“Oh my, you’re right! I never thought anyone would share that sentiment… at specifically 3 AM.” Allura laughs, causing Lance to laugh as well.

 

“I guess it’s more shared than we thought.” Lance covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter.

 

“Yeah,” Allura laughs again. “Alright, we should go soon. It’s getting late.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance leans back in his chair and slips his phone back into his pocket. “It is. Thanks for this Allura.”

“Of course, Lance.” Allura smiles, and they walk out of the café, warmed by coffee and conversation. The night chills soothes Lance’s nerves as they head back to the hotel, and Lance knows, without a doubt, that he is ready for tomorrow.

 

-

 

Lance’s fingers dance over his knees as they drive to ice rink, both from the morning frost and anxiousness. Today is the day. This will determine whether he will be going to the Grand Prix Final. Butterflies flutter all throughout his chest and electricity sparks through his veins, but he’s ready.

 

“You have been training very hard this season, Lance. You’ve shown more improvement than ever.” Allura places her hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes. “Focus in front of you. Trust yourself.”

 

Lance nods. “I’ll try.”

 

Allura fixes him a stern look. “You will.”

 

Lance sighs, aware of Allura’s point. “You’re right. I will.”

 

The trip to the locker room and warm-up stretches passes in a blur, and soon enough Lance is about to step onto the ice. He strips his jacket and sweatpants, revealing the charcoal and navy costume underneath. His outfit is completely of his own design and to Lance’s pride, suits his program well. The fabric hugs him in all the right places while the sheer panels and tulle creates a smoky vibe. Matched with some wicked eyeliner, the look is complete.

 

The announcer’s voice and Allura’s hand on his shoulder pulls Lance into the present. It’s his turn now. Lance skates around the rink a few times, getting a feel for the ice and to calm his nerves. He’s been skating for forever. He’s been here before. He’s worked so hard this season, and he has a program that he’s super happy about.

 

Lance intakes even breaths as he reaches the center, taking his starting pose and waiting for the music to begin. He begins in a crouch with his right arm raised above him, and as the music barges through the speakers, he launches into action, an immediate fast paced sequence across the ice.

 

Over the summer, Lance had realized that every program he has skated had themes of love or where driven by love: his love for his family, his love for skating, his love for life, and so on. But there’s a few forms of love that Lance has never tackled before. While Lance has never had the time to maintain a romantic relationship, he’s still a flirty, hopeless romantic, and wonders about the future in that regard. However, as Allura pointed out, he had already done something similar to that theme last year with ice prince/knight-esque routine. Then that left Lance with either romantic love, which with the lack of experience would be difficult to emulate, or eros and seduction. Both Lance and Allura voted for the later.

 

Lance completes a quadruple salchow as the string instruments reach their first climax. The euphoria from his perfect execution rushes through Lance’s veins, and spurs him to complete the step sequence with precision. He puts a little extra hip into his moves, using his arm movement to accentuate the twists, turns, and curves created in the sequence. Then Lance drops into a spin and breaks out of it as the music settles into a steady beat, which Lance dances to across the ice. He imagines himself trying to seduce someone with both allure and charm, flirting his way  into their minds and swaying into their hearts. As the rhythm picks up again, he leaps into a jump combo. Everything becomes a blur as he spins through the air and lands hard on the ice. Lance struggles slightly with getting in position for the next jump, but he still leaps and makes enough rotations, so Lance brushes off the small mistakes.

 

Lance glides into a spin and then begins the next step sequence before another jump, exuding an effortless ease. The jump goes pretty well, and Lance finds it harder to keep his smirk from growing into a smile. The rest of the program flies by for Lance, his extra practice making this routine more familiar for him than any others that he’s performed. He skates in sync to the music, and when the song ends, huge applause replaces it.

 

The adrenaline drains out of Lance’s body, leaving his arms feeling like boulders, but Lance still waves to the crowd, beaming at his performance and their enthusiasm. He meets Allura’s open arms at the barrier, and she hugs him, firmly nodding, “Well done, Lance.”

 

They wait on the bench, Lance pulling his jacket tighter around himself, despite the sweat soaking into it from his drenched costume, and unable to stop tapping his feet on the ground.

He waves more to the crowd, and as his score is announced, happiness floods his system, freezing him in place, savoring the moment. Allura jumps up beside him, and pulls him up with her a moment later, hugging him again. His score is a personal best and puts him currently in second place. Lance hugs her back.

 

Afterwards, Lance meets up with Veronica in the stands, who gives him a huge hug. 

 

"Lance! You were amazing!!!!!" Veronica then slaps him on the arm. "See! I told you that you could do it."

 

"I know, I know, geez." Lance rubs his arm and tries to hide his smile. He had missed Veronica so much, and to see her again felt like fresh air.

 

"When are you done? We can get a bite to eat?" Veronica suggests. "Oh! I also want to meet your coach!"

 

Lance shrinks a little. His sister and Allura meeting... Oh boy. "I should be done soon, I just need to pack up all my stuff."

 

"Alright, I'll just meet you by the entrance then." Lance nods and Veronica hugs him again. "We are so proud of you."

 

Lance hugs her tight back. 

-

On his way to the locker room, Lance passes Keith, who still has to go, and after his stellar performance, Lance can’t help but gloat a little, finally able to possibly one-up his rival. “Ya see that Keith? That’s how it’s done.”

 

Keith scowls and glares. “Sure.”

 

 _He thinks he’s such a hotshot._ Lance leans forward towards Keith. “You can’t deny it.” Keith rolls his eyes, infuriating Lance further. Of course he doesn’t care. He’s flawless. He can do whatever he wants.

 

“What do you want, Lance.” Keith’s voice drips with annoyance, and Lance’s mind snaps blank.

 

“I want to see you go down.” Anger rushes across Lance’s skin, angry at Keith’s rejection, his arrogance, at how he seems to look at Lance like dirt.

 

“Don’t bother waiting then, because you’ll just die mad.” Keith crosses his arms, his lips pressed into a thin line.

 

“Oh yeah, because you can just do everything, huh, Mullet!” Lance crosses his arms as well.

 

“What is your problem?” Keith’s voice raises to surpass Lance’s, which Lance just can’t have.

 

“You! You’re my problem, you arrogant ass!” Keith opens his mouth but no words come out. Then, in the silence, Lance notices the people around them all staring. _Shit_. He made a scene.

 

“Whatever, Kogane.” Lance whips around to leave the conversation, missing the shock leaking into Keith’s features. Lance immediately goes through the nearest exit, which happens to be the bathroom. He splashes some water on his face to calm his nerves.

 

_Damn. Did I really just say all that? In front of all those people too?_

 

“UGH!” Lance buries his face in his hands, feeling so childish. Another skater that Lance does not recognize walks into the bathroom, headed towards a stall. “What even are emotions?” Lance asks himself out loud.

 

“No idea, man.” The guy replies. Lance huffs, amused but also still confused.

 

_Whatever, I just gotta skate well tomorrow. It’s not like Keith cares anyway._

 

-

 

Lance purses his lips and clenches his jaw. He’s only standing on the podium because Keith flopped. It had nothing to do with himself at all. He’s above Keith in the rankings, but Lance still feels defeated. And furious. Because what the hell was that? That was not the Keith Kogane that had won gold.

 

Lance smiles at the crowd and tries not to grimace as his silver metal digs into the meat of his clenched hand.

 

After the medals ceremony, Lance finds excuses to be everywhere in the locker rooms and lobbies, searching for a familiar mop of dark hair. He has no ideas about what to say, but he feels the need to confront Keith.

He finds Keith outside, leaning against the wall of the back of the building near the service exit, merely by chance, of course, not the hour of looking for him. Keith stares at the dark blue sky, cigarette between his fingers. The other hand is stuffed in his jacket pocket, the leather jacket Lance finds insanely impractical because of its length. As Lance walks closer, he notices the shiny red to Keith’s eyes and pauses. He wonders if he should confront, but Keith looks up at him and he can’t run away now.

 

“What,” Keith barks out. His voice sounds rough, strained from… whatever he’s feeling. Lance can’t quite tell.

 

“That performance today…” Lance starts, but he’s lost on what else to say. When the medalists were announced, Lance only felt anger and frustration, but looking at Keith now, he only feels like an intruder, an ass coming to rub in some victory.

 

“Yeah,” Keith says flatly, bringing the cigarette to his lips.

 

“What happened?” It’s the best Lance comes up with.

 

“None of your business,” Keith bites out.

 

Lance’s jaw drops, surprised by the sudden change of tone. _He’s right. He’s my rival. I should be gloating with my medal right now._

 

_But I don’t want to do that._

 

Keith turns towards the service door, walking away. Lance decides to just say whatever comes out, rather than saying nothing at all.

 

“I won’t expect anything less than your best skating, Keith. Otherwise I won’t be beating you.”

 

“You’re a little too late for that, Lance.” Keith leaves, while Lance stands frozen in place. Eventually, Lance’s feet wander back into the more populated areas of the building, collecting his belongs and finding Allura, the rest of the day passing in a blur. Lance finds himself back at the hotel, but his mind elsewhere.

 

_What the hell did he mean by that?_

 

Lance’s brain finally calms as he breathes deeply and grasps the wisps of sleep.

 


End file.
